The Beast that Growls
by Turise
Summary: Harry, 20, has been imprisoned in Gringotts for three years, guarded by a talkative dragon, and forced to watch the war through Voldemort's eyes. His friends pride him by tipping the war in their favor, but when the day of escape finally comes, Harry never expected it to turn out like this!
1. Chapter 1

Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he flew great heights above a roaring Quidditch pitch. The noise from the thousands of fans could drown out even the wind in his ears. The announcer's voice broke through it all, though.

_"Here we are on Potter Watch Radio! Welcome fans of the Appleby Arrows!"_

Banners are suddenly swinging in a strong breeze coming from the north. They blew deep into the field…like tentacles reaching out to catch him. He wove between them, up and down to avoid their heavy cloth.

_"Our main feature: Harry Potter! He flies on his Firebolt – look how slow compared to what the others are flying!"_

Harry dodges the last banner and comes out into the open, and he sees everyone else is on dragons. He pulls his broom to a stop and stares up at them all…the green and gold dragons were flying wildly around, the other players weren't even on their backs – they were dangling out of the dragon's mouths.

Harry looked down at the ground and saw a lake of red blood and bodies falling into it. A black dragon circled above it.

Above him, the black sky filled with green light as a heavy storm descended.

_"The Appleby Arrows have lost this match, and it's their Seeker's fault! Let the dragons kill him!"_

The guilt of being the cause for them losing the game weighed heavily…and he was left falling from the sky. He couldn't pull up…he couldn't control anything at all. The red lake was coming towards him fast, and the black dragon was getting ready to catch him. The heat from the water was intense. He looked down as it came upon him fast, and he put his arms out in front of him to try to stop it. He missed the dragon's mouth and splashed into the blood and down into the depths…The blood crept into his mouth and clothes, and leaked into his body until all the blood from the lake all now belonged to him.

_"Look at the state of him! Look at what he's done!"_

The voice of the announcer – Voldemort's voice – never stopped echoing in Harry's ears, even after he opened his eyes and realized it was all a dream. He was laying against the hot metal bars of his cell in Gringotts, next to the hot breath the dragon, Synwenty. He moved his body and lay on the hard floor, finding a more comfortable position. His whole life was centered around his hard cell; there was really nothing less comfortable than this place.

His body ached from the curses inflicted on him earlier that day. Voldemort – no one, actually – ever visited him down here, but that didn't stop the mental visits the Dark Lord inflicted…The visits of torture…and front row seats to massacres…And somehow it all left actual bruises and cuts on him. Synwenty wasn't a fan of watching him lose control and scream his anguish, and it would wander around the corner of the labyrinth they were locked together in until it reached the end of its chains.

For three years these visits amounted to violence being almost commonplace. The life Voldemort lived was the life he lived. He could sense when Voldemort was coming to see him after all these years, and for awhile he tried to fight it, but now he just let it happen…and he couldn't deny that sometimes he enjoyed when their minds worked together. Now and then…a Death Eater would betray him, and no matter how their deeds benefited the side of light, they had still done countless atrocities before.

There was no escaping this vault – this prison that was for his body but not his mind. The chains on the dragon's legs meant there was no chance for their escape together, and in some ways Harry wondered if he would escape if he had the chance. If he left, Synwenty would surely be killed for failing to keep him, and by now they were friends. Or, in Dracotongue, they were "ggrrrrr" with a touch of smoke and a spark. Harry often told Synwenty of his dreams of them flying together, and it was the brightest part of both their days. Synwenty hadn't ever been outside, and it never confessed to ever dreaming anything.

No, the two of them…they would burn forever together here in Gringotts. On and on…unless…like it was slowly seeming to be…the war ended. And it did seem to be ending.

Harry rolled onto his stomach and looked casually over at Synwenty, and was surprised to see it had its glossy blue eyes open. Synwenty was blind, but it never slept with its eyes open.

_"What are you dreaming?"_ Synwenty asked in that growling, smoky language of its.

_"Of flying together in the light,"_ Harry told it, wishing such things were true.

Harry always supposed the reason Synwenty went blind was because there was nothing to see down here. It was good enough at its job just using its nose.

The large black dragon growled contently. Harry often thought of this sort of growl as a purr, and he enjoyed it immensely. Harry reached out through the hot bars and gripped one of Synwenty's long, thin whiskers. Touching a dragon's whiskers was tantamount to a kiss – it was the most joyous feeling Synwenty ever had.

_"I believe the war will end soon."_

_"You have been told?"_

_"Not told. I believe it. The Dark Lord has almost no fire fight with."_

Synwenty, wisely, said, _"But he still has you."_

Sure he did, but Harry was the weapon he hasn't used yet.

Harry nodded in agreement, but a smile touched one corner of his mouth. "_But to get me…he will have to get inside _your_ room…"_

Synwenty purred again, because it was still perhaps the greatest thing that ever happened to the two of them – the last time Voldemort tried to come in here the war just about ended, that was for sure.

Yes, one of these days Voldemort will get Harry out of here, but for now Synwenty kept him from it. Voldemort put Harry in thinking this was wise, but once Harry learned Dracotongue and Synwenty became his friend, it was now in fact Synwenty guarding the room from people coming in instead of from Harry getting out. Everyone knew if Voldemort really wanted to get Harry out, he would find a way, but everyone also knew Synwenty would do everything to stop him.


	2. Chapter 2

The body of the great black serpent-dragon slumped to the floor. Its last words were lost in its death-rattle, but Harry imagined they were to tell him to run for it. The horror and weight of watching his best friend die was like an iron fist slamming Harry in the gut. He crawled from the body of the dragon, looking back at its pale, empty eyes – blind for the last 20 years at least. But Synwenty had done one thing before it died: it had cleared a path for Harry to at least try to escape.

Harry's wounds inflicted since the siege began were mostly to his legs, but they didn't cripple him. Over the rubble, he went into a vault partially open, trying to find cover from his pursuers. His scruffy beard and tousled hair were scorched on the ends, so he smelled burning hair.

They had destroyed the main wall and dozens of vaults nearby; Harry was running from one to the next barefooted over a fortune of galleons littered on the floor. But he knew that his escape was over as soon as Voldemort and his Death Eaters killed his friend; all he was doing now was delaying the inevitable.

Voldemort called to him from the darkness, "Harry! Come to me! There is no escape anyway!"

Harry jumped over the loose wall and into the last open vault, looking for anything to use as a weapon. He found a long wooden staff with a jewel, and other such trinkets, but no wands. He heard Voldemort coming and took a deep breath. If there was one thing Dracotongue had taught him, it was how to breathe fire. He shot a burning stream out, and he was please when it caused someone to scream their final breath.

Harry hopped out of the vault and ran – ran as fast as his legs would carry him. He stumbled around corners and up stairs, and he was so grateful still for Synwenty's smoke filling up the whole area – keeping him safely hidden.

It was still almost no use, because from behind suddenly started a barrage of curses. He ducked and skidded from them as they blew up the walls ahead of him. At last he turned down the wrong corner – dead end.

_"No no no. Not good!"_ Harry whispered, smoke coming from his mouth.

He still had the staff with the bright red jewel, and he held it before him like a weapon. Meanwhile, he faced behind him and waited for the perfect moment to breathe fire again. Three Death Eaters weren't expecting him to have run down a dead end, and it was their final mistake. Their charred bodies withered where they stood, and the rest behind them stopped around the corner.

Harry didn't have a moment to rest when their wands came around the corner and blindly cast spells. He dodged them all, and fortunately one punched a man-sized hole in the wall. Without a second thought Harry dove through the hole into the vault on the other side, taking the staff with him. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he looked all around for a weapon – an escape – anything!

Voldemort called from outside. "I plan to free you, Harry! Come out and you won't be harmed!"

"You plan on trading me for Ron and Hermione!" Harry yelled back, pulling open the door of a fallen old clock and looking within. All he saw was the heavy weight lying against the floor – nothing to help him.

Then the wall with the man-hole began to expand as they made to enter the vault. Harry cursed and lay on the floor next to the clock and scooted in behind the weight, closing the door.

"Really, Harry?" Voldemort chided him, and he was inside the vault and right outside the clock.

Harry closed his eyes and he held his breath, ready to spit fire whenever they opened the door. His cheeks glowed so bright he could see the tiny space he was in – the weight and the staff he brought in was the only things to see, really.

There was silence, and then at last there was movement. Harry held tightly to the heavy weight as the clock was shifted to stand straight. He felt the pressure from the weight shift to the left, and then with an almighty _click_ the whole machine shuttered, and the weight moved back the other way with a softer _tick._

_Tick…tick…tick…tick…_

Harry stood between the weight and the back wall with only three-feet of breadth and a few inches in front between him and moving weight. He waited and waited, but all there was left was the sound of the ticking clock as it worked again. His body tensed, sure that any second now Voldemort would open the door.

_Tick…tick…tick…tick…_


	3. Chapter 3

He was scared, listening there to the whirl and the ticks. He looked above him into the dark chasm of the gears. He'd started breathing again, but he kept a flame glowing on the tip of his tongue, lighting up the space. He reached around the moving weight and gripped the handle inside the door and pushed it open just a bit.

What he saw awed and frightened him – there was a black tornado swirling. He shut the door tightly and brought his hand back close to him. He was trapped standing on two wounded legs he just had to get off, and outside was a void that terrified him.

He tried stopping the weight with all his strength, but it was too heavy. He finally realized the jewel on the staff was small enough to push up into the space the gears were moving, so he spent a good amount of time flaying the skin on his fingertips attempting to break the wooden catch off and free the red jewel. He looked up under the weight and at last stuffed it up there, but it was pushed into an empty place and was useless.

_"No no no,"_ he said, grumbling out Dracotongue even now, lighting up the room brightly.

Angry, he pounded on the walls left and right…and felt the box sway. Enlightened, he stopped shifting his weight and touched the wall, wondering what would happen if he did it enough. Afraid he might accidently open the doors in his next attempt, he carefully tore a length of cloth from his tattered shirt and tied one end to the door handle and held the other snugly. Satisfied he shifted and banged his body left and right again, until finally he felt a shift…then a crash.

He was lying on his side and all was still. Without a second's hesitation, he pushed the door open and breathed a gust of flames out of the clock into the space beyond.


	4. Chapter 4

He got out of the clock and looked on at the few wooden objects burning brightly. There was no one here, and the wall was intact – no man-whole at all. It was a transportation clock, then. Like the vanishing cabinet from Hogwarts – it had moved him to a different part of Gringotts. Chances were, then, that Voldemort was somewhere in the building looking for him, so Harry went and sat down on the clock's side and rested for a time.

He was thirsty and hungry, but most of all he was sore. He had been pelted by falling clumps of the ceiling and they had left bruises on his back and shoulders, and worse of all were the long cuts – mostly on the underside of his legs. Synwenty's scales had not been as smooth as he had thought. Now that he had a moment to see, he noticed his tattered clothes he had been wearing since he was seventeen were so covered in dried blood they might crumble to pieces. The blood – he knew – was mostly his.

He scratched his thick, burnt beard, and he rubbed his tangled mess of hair that was to his shoulders. Three years without a shower or a shave left him quite grimy, but now and then a good ash bath – like what Synwenty would take – refreshed him. Three years of this had left his skin sooty and gray. His eyes watered often to clean them out.

He contemplated the clock he was sitting on. What an unusual device…He remembered the large red jewel he had lost within its gear box, and he leaned down to clock face. The small hand was pointed to a seven, and the large hand was pointed between twenty and twenty-five, but there were actually quite a number of other hands he had no idea what to make of. The door to the clock had been burnt and busted away thanks to his breath of fire.

He reached now for the small knob on the clock face and pulled it out, revealing the gears behind. There were a number of devices he hadn't realized clocks needed – such as hourglasses with sand, and golden embellishments that couldn't possibly be useful. He saw the red gem tangled in the back, and reached through to grab it. He clutched the large red stone in his hand, thinking nothing more of it than he might chuck it at someone's head one day, and he pocketed it.

At last he figured it was time to make an escape. He went to the door and made to open it, but it was no use. He hesitated at first, but then started to pound and screamed for help for twenty solid minutes. He remembered stories of people dying in Gringotts' vaults because there was no one there to hear them scream. Harry hoped for the best, and he hoped it wasn't Voldemort who found him.

Time passed. Not much time – the wooden objects in the room were still emitting light from their embers. But enough time passed that Harry was shifting to get into a more comfortable position as he pounded on the door – now pounding with what was left of the wooden staff he'd taken with him into the clock.

At last, he heard noises outside, and he backed away, holding the staff like a weapon and reading his mouth to blow fire at them.

"Who goes from this vault?"

"Help!" was all Harry could muster; his voice was nearly gone.

He gripped the wooden staff and pulled himself to his aching legs. The locks on the door turned and finally opened. There stood a short goblin holding a lantern, with two others behind him. All three held their wands at him.

Harry didn't speak. The goblins looked him over and came to a conclusion – Harry supposed – that he was a thief breaking into disused vaults.

"Take that staff! It isn't his!"

Harry jerked away from their sudden movements towards him and yelled. He didn't really intend for the flame to gust from his mouth, but all the same he was glad for it. The three goblins went scuttling back into the wall on the other side of the vault, and Harry made the split decision to ditch the wooden staff and snatch at the goblin's wands. He tried with both hands in case one failed him, and wound up with two wands for his trouble.

He set off from them at a run. Recognizing the maze he had been running through to escape Voldemort, Harry took over the path he was taking before, but this time he didn't turn down the way with the dead end.

When he saw the cart that would surely lead to the exit, he let out an almightily sigh, not dissimilar to Synwenty's purrs…As he hopped into the metal container, he flashed back on their years of talking about freedom and what they would see when they got out. Never mind that Synwenty was blind – they would see the world together.

He could hear the goblin's yelling behind him by the time he made his decision on which way to go. He zoomed along the track, the wind in his singed hair, feeling that freedom was close at hand.

And then he saw it: a large – perhaps twice the size of Synwenty – white dragon in his path up ahead. It was staring right at him with its large black eyes – eyes that could see.

Harry made a quick decision and bailed onto the crevice to the right. He was just in time, too, because the dragon had let loose with a great torrent of hot fire. Harry held fast to the narrow walkway and looked back towards the dragon.

_"Great white dragon!" _Harry yelled in Dracotongue. _"Do you want to escape this prison?"_

The dragon was in the middle of collecting fire in its mouth when Harry spoke, and now it released it all in a harmless cloud of black smoke – now listening.

_"Great white dragon of darkness and fear!"_ Harry shouted clearly, saying things he knew Synwenty enjoyed hearing. _"Let us escape together!" _

The dragon held still for a moment, its head cocked to the side as it regarded Harry. There was suddenly the sound of another cart coming towards them from back the way Harry had come. He looked back and saw by lantern-light coming up were the three goblins.

_"You offer freedom from goblin-beasts?" _The dragon finally said, its voice much louder and stronger than Synwenty's ever was.

_ "I bring you freedom from goblin-beasts!"_ Harry corrected, running forward until he had a clear shot, and with the two goblin wands he blasted the rocks that connected the inevitable chains that were clasped to the dragon's legs.

Without delay, the dragon pointed its long white nose at the goblins and took a deep breath. Behind Harry, the goblins yelled in fear and bailed the cart. Harry collapsed onto the floor to dodge the fire jet. When it was over, he looked up from under his arms.

The huge white dragon lunged at Harry and snapped its jaws inches from Harry's body. Harry curled himself up and stared in fear into its big dark eyes that stared at him. He was used to Synwenty's size – perhaps fifty-feet long. But this white dragon was well over twice that. It's teeth alone were the length of Harry's hand.

But fear hadn't gotten him this far; courage had.

_"May I ride you?"_ Harry asked.

_"You speak my mind,"_ it said in return.

It presented its neck and Harry climbed up, wrapping his legs around its neck just below its mane of blonde hair, and holding onto the middle of a horn on either side. He held tight as, together, they first ran down a tunnel to a place where the roof opened up to reveal a skylight above – and sunlight showing through. It was day time. Harry hadn't seen daylight in over three years.

The dragon spread its wings – amassing probably 150 feet. They flew high into the air to the glass roof above, and Harry used the wands still in his hands to blast the glass wide open. The glass had so far acted like a shield from the true purity of the daylight outside, but now it shown through clear…and it burned his eyes.

The gust of freezing air outside also came as a shock to the senses. Harry lived with a dragon – the room was _always_ hot. It must have been winter – or late autumn. It was refreshing.

Harry closed his eyes and tucked his face into the main of hair in front of him. The white dragon he rode shrieked in pain of it and must have had to close its eyes as well, because it crash landed on the roofs of the buildings just outside the bank. Below were screaming people Harry suspected were running for cover.

Harry and the dragon took a moment to gather their wits, but it was the dragon that came to its first.

_"Hunger!"_ It bellowed, and pulled fire into its mouth.

_"Noo!" _Harry cried grabbing its main and pulling its head back. _"No food! Danger! Fly away! There are juicy sheep in the northern fields!"_

Well, he hoped there were juicy sheep in the northern fields…

The dragon shook with indecision, its mouth still full of fire ready to let loose. Harry gripped the two goblin wands tightly in his fist, ready to fire on the dragon should it try to kill the people below. Still Harry couldn't see well in the glaring light – and even the dragon was squinting from it. But finally it let its fire loose back down into the bank, lighting it up like a roman candle.

Harry baked in the heat of it until finally they were airborne and on their way. They flew over London, getting higher and higher into the clear and cold day.


	5. Chapter 5

Seven dead sheep lay gutted around them in the sun, but in Harry's hands were lettuce leafs to munch on. He held them by the handful and plucked them leaf by leaf. He hadn't had something so fresh since he could remember. Food in prison was thin, watery, and tasteless. Voldemort let him taste in his dreams…but those dreams he wished to forget.

The dragon was full so took to nuzzling the corpses, smearing its white scales and blonde hair in red poison. It languished in the grass and gazed all around, but it was resistant to purr. It also watched Harry, and now and then Harry would watch it. He wondered if it would kill him next.

They were surrounded by hills and no one was watching. Harry was freezing cold and sat against the white back of a sheep for warmth, and was grateful for the dragon's breath close by.

_"I have been locked in that bank for three years,"_ Harry told the dragon as they sat together.

_"I have been for five years."_

Harry contemplated its words, and then said, _"The dragon…who taught me your voice…do you know it? A black dragon named Synwenty?"_

Harry watched it closely for any reaction, but he got none.

Synwenty liked to talk – it liked to rumble and chatter – but it seemed this one did not.

Synwenty. That dragon was his companion for three years. That dragon was Voldemort's, however, long before. That dragon had guarded the Horcruxes during the First Wizarding War. Synwenty told him all about it, and told him of adventures he had taken in his life. And he said that even after he had been sold to Gringotts after the war, it was many years before he began to regret his life and distain Lord Voldemort.

Harry couldn't say his feelings were any different; he hated his life. He regretted so much. Sirius was dead…his parents…Dumbledore…now his dragon companion. He was almost sure he was brainwashed with how much time he spent in Voldemort's head…and mental bed. Three years of it. He was technically a virgin, but his mind was a disaster. Now though…today…his mind was empty and completely his, but within it floated so much regret.

Synwenty. This new dragon was nothing compared to it.

Harry gazed all around at the beauty of the world, and he wondered about Gringotts…he wondered where he had gone in the black tornado in the clock.

_"I have questions, great white dragon."_

The beast stood and stretched. _"I have no answers, lonely human."_

_"Will you fly me to my answers?"_

_"I will not. Your answers are not mine."_

Harry swallowed hard, wishing he was not so worried about being on his own. He had a wand – two wands – but he wanted a dragon. He realized now, in this moment, that he was afraid.

_"You will not do me this favor?"_

_"I will not."_

It was such a final thing to say. What use Harry could get out of this dragon he had apparently got. He was free of Gringotts – now he needed to find friends.

Harry stood up and swayed on his wounded legs. Either way, he wouldn't leave the dragon to be captured or killed.

Synwenty had taught him the proper thing dragons would say in a moment like this.

_"Fly to the east with gentle winds."_

It was the right thing to say; the dragon shook its body, and Harry knew that was a positive jester.

He turned to walk away and fell quite quickly over the uneven earth, landing on his wounded legs. His hands sank into cold mud and his knees landed in a puddle of sheep blood. He sat up and felt actually blessed by the moment – he was filthy, but he wasn't in prison.

Behind him, however, the dragon wasn't feeling the same as him. It huffed and the heat from its nose warmed Harry's chilled body. Harry looked behind him with an expression of awe at the sight of the dragon standing and spreading its great wings. This beast was huge…just massive!

The dragon growled at him and curled its tail out to Harry. Synwenty had often stuck its fingers or the tip of its tale through the bars of Harry's cell so Harry might cuddle up with it. Three years they were separated by those iron bars. Synwenty waited until Voldemort unlocked them to attack…

Now, the offered tail wasn't hindered by bars. It neatly scooped Harry up under his arms and brought him to his bare feet.

_"Instead…I will take you on my back where your answers are known!"_

_"Why?"_

It appeared there wasn't an answer, but really, Harry thought it was out of pity.

Harry held fast to the long tail as it pushed him to its mane where he had sat before. The dragon shook its wings out and gave the sheep a last nudge with its bloodied nose.

_"We go north,"_ Harry said. _"There is a castle for us."_

They stopped many times to rest; the dragon wasn't used to flying such a distance. A group of Muggles walked right past them and didn't see them, which told Harry the dragon was charmed so heavily it couldn't be seen by Muggles at all. He wondered if this charm was the reason no one pursued them; they flew a zigzag pattern just to be sure no one caught up to them anyway, but maybe this was it. Being so close to the people was thrilling – he hadn't had human contact in so long. There was something strange about the Muggles, though. How they dressed…something about how they dressed…


	6. Chapter 6

His legs were always in pain, but he kept them wrapped tight around the beast's neck. When he had escaped the cell, he'd run for Synwenty and climbed up, but he did not know the dragon's scales were twisted so, and they sliced many minute scratches into them. The dozens of curses fired up at him had knocked loose the ceiling above, and pieces had crumbled onto him, bruising him badly. The final, worse blow, was Synwenty's fall from life, in which Harry had to bail from its neck and onto its back where the worse of its upturned scales were.

This white dragon Harry rode now had smooth scales, and its blonde hair – like a horse's mane – billowed gently around him like a blanket to keep him warm up there in the high, cold sky. Farther north, the clouds had piled on and there was a cold mist that went all the way to the ground. It was night when Hogwarts came within sight.

_"Land in the forest,"_ Harry growled in Dracotongue.

The dragon, becoming used to accepting Harry's presence, used its stellar vision to find perhaps the one clearing in the woods between the southern forest of Hogwarts, and the castle.

It landed heavily as usual, seeming to be an awkward baby fledgling still learning to fly. Harry waited until it lowered its neck closer to the ground, and then he slipped off. As usual for him, he went right into a sitting position; he hadn't had so much exercise in three years, and was quite sore from it all. The dragon was also finding the exercise rather unwelcome, and curled up its legs under it and puffed out a great warm cloud of smoke from its nostrils, heating the two of them.

_"You can sleep here,"_ Harry told it. _"I'm going to the castle."_

The dragon grumbled and rumbled, and Harry wondered if this was the first purr he might have heard. Its large black eyes watched him as he started away into the forest – one wand up and lighting his path – and then it lowered its head and slept.

Harry knew it was folly to just walk onto Hogwarts grounds. The place had been under Voldemort's control for three years and therefore not a place to wonder. But months ago it was abandoned by the Death Eaters and taken over by McGonagall and the Order. Though Hogwarts had continued to be a school, it would now accept Muggle-borns and people less than pureblooded. That was plan, and Harry was so glad to hear it.

Ron and Hermione were known to frequent Hogwarts, too. If Voldemort was planning on trading him for them, this is where he would probably come to do it, so chances were there were Death Eaters and other such baddies surrounding the place.

He figured the clock with the black tornado had been like the vanishing cabinet from his youth – and he had been transported to another clock within Gringotts; he had escaped the bowels of that place by luck and a white dragon's heavily charmed body, but that wasn't the end of his trouble yet. He needed to find a friend.

Harry crept slowly, using as little light as he needed and constantly huffing hot smoke out of his mouth and towards his body. He stopped several times to blow onto his bare feet in order to change them from blue back to pink. Learning Dracotongue and living three years with a dragon meant he basically breathed fire all the time, but it was now quite a handy way to stay warm.

Harry took his time creeping around, until finally he made it to the Shrieking Shack between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. The grounds around the shack were baron, so he looked for a long time until he figured it was safe, and he bolted across the grounds, up the rickety stairs, and into the building.

It was musty and ravaged within, but he didn't spend time looking and went straight for the secret door that had the passageway below ground to the Whomping Willow. He lit the small goblin's wand bright and jogged quickly ahead.

The one thing he noticed about the passageway was the footprints. He had walked this way many times before, but it had never been used enough to still see footprints. Harry slowed and counted them, and found at least four repeating patterns – four people at least. He looked ahead into the darkness and continued on, ready to blow anyone up if they weren't a friend.

At last he made it to where the Whomping Willow's roots dug into the pathway, and he took a moment to warm his body thoroughly before proceeding up.

He poked his head from the willow's knot and looked around. The cold breeze shook the branches of the tree, but he knew they would go mad if he didn't find something to press the knot that would keep the tree still. He felt the heavy weight of the red jewel in his pocket – the one he'd taken from Gringotts. It would be perfect, so he placed it right where it needed to be and the tree settled even from the breeze. Harry got out.

Lights were on brightly in the castle, but he didn't feel comfortable going too near. He looked off into the distance where he knew Hagrid's old cabin was, and there were lights on outside there as well.

Harry was there front and center for Hagrid's death…it happened the night he was kidnapped. When Hogwarts had been attacked and Voldemort had issued the ultimatum to trade Harry for the lives of everyone – and when Harry had accepted – he had gone into the clearing Voldemort occupied, and there Hagrid had fallen. Fallen…trying to save Harry.

Harry ducked low to the dark earth and vaulted as quickly as he could over the grounds. He kept his eyes up and around for anyone watching, but he wasn't delayed. Huffing great billows of black smoke for warmth as much as for cover of darkness, he made it to the pumpkin patch. The patch was empty of anything big – telling Harry that Halloween had already passed. He made his way through and up to the cabin window and he…

Couldn't believe it!

He couldn't believe it for a second!

Sitting – actually _sitting _– at Hagrid's table…was Hagrid!

Harry didn't mean to be so shocked that he lost is breath, but that's exactly what happened – and his breath was black as smoke. It escaped and puffed over the whole large window, painting in fact the whole side of hut in black sticky soot.

From within, Harry heard Hagrid's mighty voice shout and rumble. He backpedaled and tripped over the low fence of the pumpkin patch. The large wooden door burst open and Hagrid came storming around the side of the hut, his large yellow umbrella in one hand and a lantern held high in the other. Harry scampered back further, trying to get to his feet, but he was tangled in the vines of the pumpkins and kept on the ground.

"Think ya kids can get away with this!" Raged Hagrid coming upon Harry's fallen form. There was no light tonight – it was hardly a quarter moon – so not until Hagrid was towering over him did either of the two get a really good look at each other.

Hagrid was like a blast from the past – his thick beard and curly hair hid the majority of his features, but still there were his large brown eyes, always shining and bright. He wasn't wearing a coat, so his only protection from the cold was a long-sleeved orange, plaid shirt. Where Harry knew there to be gray at his temples and heavy wrinkles around his eyes, there were none. Hagrid…was alive…and looked quite young. Hagrid had survived Voldemort's attack…but something had happened to his mind…he was like a child of his former self.

The person on the ground certainly wasn't a kid; he was tall, broad shouldered, poorly dressed, and as ashen as a dead fire. His black beard and hair were clumpy and sooty, and he was in desperate need for a meal, a shower, and a shave. Though it was cold and even Hagrid's breath came out wispy, the man on the ground's breath came out like the steam from a train.

"Who are ye?" Hagrid asked him intriguingly, keeping his unassuming umbrella pointed right at Harry.

"I…I…" Harry didn't have the words.

Hagrid squinted down at him, furrowing his brow. "Yeh look familiar…"

Harry shook his head quickly, but Hagrid seemed to figure it out.

"Yea!" he said, and he straightened up and held his lantern higher. He wasn't exactly exuberant about it, but he was excited to have placed Harry's face. Harry cringed in anticipation. "It was ye with the dragon in Diagon Alley! Yer description were in the paper! Covered in soot from head to toe!"

And then it seemed Hagrid's demeanor changed.

"What yer doing around my house! _What yer doing at Hogwarts?!"_

"Hagrid!" Shouted Harry holding up his hands defensively as the half-giant towered over him. "I – I –"

_"How yer know my name?!"_

"Please!" Harry begged. He scuttled up to his feet, urgently trying to get things under control. "I didn't – mean to mess up your house…I was surprised, is all…" he was reaching for things to say, trying not to scare him and yet trying to understand it all.

"Surprised 'bout what?"

Harry looked him over and indicted his appearance with expressive hand jesters. "You're…big," Harry opened his hands and shrugged. "Please, Hagrid…someone told me about you…they said you could help with my…dragon."

Hagrid regarded him. The idea of helping a dragon…well, it appealed to Hagrid.

Harry took a deep breath and plowed forward. "I need a place to hide so You Know Who can't find us."

That got Hagrid's alarm bells ringing, and he gripped his yellow umbrella tighter. "We don't need any problems here at Hogwarts ta do with him! Who are yeh?! Why's he lookin' fer yeh?!"

This wasn't going how Harry expected. He realized talking with Hagrid in this state was bad for the both of them. He clasped his hands in front of him and held them to his lips. "Please," he whispered, "if he finds me…he'll either kill me…trade me…or…"

"Or…?"

Harry shook his head. _Or keep me in his bedchamber…_

Harry hugged his arms around himself, and he was nearly on the verge of tears.

"I can't go back to him! You don't know me – I know this – but _trust me_, please! Can we stay here at Hogwarts? My dragon…it won't hurt anyone! I'll tell it not to! We can keep it far away from the castle – it won't ever have to be seen!"

"No!" Hagrid admonished, shaking his head sternly. "If yeh running form You Know Who…yeh can't be seen around this school!"

"You couldn't ask for me, could you? Not anyone?" Harry asked quietly. "Not even Ron or Hermione?"

Hagrid seemed confused, but again he shook his head. "No! Not even Headmaster Dumbledore!"

Harry swallowed hard and shivered. In his mind he often saw Dumbledore toppling over the side of the tower…down…down…down to death. Tears dripped over Harry's cheeks smearing the ashes on his face. Hagrid knew Dumbledore was dead…his mind must be very lost indeed.

"Look…don't feel bad…" Hagrid said now quite a bit softer.

"I'm sorry, Hagrid!" Harry said bitterly, sniffing hard and wiping at his face. "I didn't mean for this to happen! I wish I never got you involved…I wish I never got anyone involved!"

Harry shook his head and turned away, ready to run into the forest and back to the dragon.

"Wait!" Hagrid called, grabbing Harry's arm and pulling him to a stop. Harry stopped and turned to look at Hagrid's large hand, which engulfed his whole lower arm below his elbow. "Come inside…please. Come in an' have some supper, would ya?"

Harry finally nodded. "Supper sounds great."


	7. Chapter 7

"Why're yeh covered in ashes?"

"Dragons don't like the smell of people…they prefer this."

"An' how long've yeh been working with dragons?"

Harry shook his head. "I haven't been working with them…I've been living with one."

Hagrid raised his eyebrow. Harry swallowed another bite of soup and bit into his piece of bread.

"Since You Know Who took me three years ago, I've been locked up in Gringotts and guarded by his dragon – not the white dragon out there, though; a different one."

They ate in silence for awhile, but Hagrid's silence was leading up to something big, Harry could tell.

"Can I ask yer somemat? Yer don't have to answer…"

Harry nodded.

"Why'd he keep yer alive? That's…not like him…"

Harry shook his head. "No, that's not like him at all," he swallowed hard. "I'm his…I don't know…he…"

"Are yer his son?"

"No!" Harry shouted and his whole body jerked at the thought of it.

Hagrid consented and let him find his voice at his own pace.

"He killed my parents when I was a baby. I'm not his son. I think anyone who knew what we…" Harry shook his head. "I don't want anyone to know what we…what he…does with…me."

Harry took a deep breath and let it go, and it was as if soot were lodged deep within his throat because it scattered over his food and bread, but he took a bite of it anyway. Hagrid found that rather strange.

"I'm…just his. I don't know! Since I was a baby he's wanted to get me. He's hunted me and got me a few times," Harry rubbed the soot off his right forearm and held it out, showing Hagrid the large and deep slice to his arm there. "I was fourteen and he almost ended it…but he always underestimated what I could do."

"Yer escaped?"

Harry nodded. "The first time we met, if it wasn't for –" if it wasn't for Dumbledore, but he couldn't say that to Hagrid or he might actually remember the thought…remember that he was dead. "– a friend…I would have…well…maybe things would be better off if I hadn't been saved."

"Better off than what?"

Harry took a deep breath and sighed. "If I had just died then…he wouldn't have got as powerful as he is now, would he? He never would have used me…he never would have…"

_He never would have ruined your mind._

Hagrid was very intrigued, now, though. "We should call Dumbledore down here. If yeh an enemy of You Know Who, then yeh a friend of his."

Harry shook his head quickly. "No, Hagrid! No! Don't do that! Please…I couldn't… If You Know Who is against the wall already then I don't want to interfere. What Dumbledore's doing now is…good enough."

"Against the wall?" He asked with a touch of excitement in his voice.

Harry nodded and went back to eating. Hagrid wouldn't let that go forever, though.

"Yer haven't told me yer name yet…"

Harry froze mid-bite and swallowed slowly. "It's Harry Potter."

Hagrid alighted with surprise, but only just cleared his throat loudly. "And…Harry…yer have any relatives 'round?"

That was a sore subject. Harry watched Voldemort murder his aunt, uncle, and cousin some years before. They didn't deserve it…neither had the countless others who were murdered because they supported him.

Harry shook his head. "No."

"No brothers…?"

Harry shook his head. "No. My parents died before I had any brothers or sisters. My dad's parents only had him, and my mum…she had a sister…but she died a few years ago. She was the one who raised me."

Hagrid cleared his throat. "I'm sorry fer yer loss."

"No. She was a selfish woman…" Her last words before she died – Harry remembered her saying them clearly – were, _I wish that boy was never born._

"Grandparents?"

Harry now gave Hagrid a look that questioned his motives, but Harry felt obligated to answer. "Nope. I don't know much about my dad's side of the family, but my mum's died when I was young. Don't know them at all."

Hagrid nodded, and seemed to leave it at that for now.

"I always wondered 'bout that," Hagrid said solemnly, shaking his head sadly. Harry met his eyes with a question, and Hagrid said, "'Bout what sort of…relationships You Know Who had…Always thought he'd 'ave one of his Death Eaters keep him company."

Harry shook his head. "He doesn't trust them, Hagrid. He trusts what he can control, and me…up until yesterday, anyway, he had me under his control."

"Wha' happened yesterday?"

It was easy enough to tell Hagrid the story. There was nothing too horrible…none of his friends were involved anyway, and the best part was it ended here in Hagrid's living room. As he talked about his captivity and worried over the fate of his friends, the air outside filled with a light splattering of snow. Hagrid added a few logs to the fire, and soon there was the smell of hot chocolate filling the air, and somehow…at some time during it all…Harry drifted off to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Dumbledore placed a hand gently on Harry's shoulder and shook him. Harry looked out from under his hooded eyes and then was wide awake. He jumped back and gasped, sending a cloud of ashes against Dumbledore's chest. Dumbledore coughed and fanned the air in front of him to clear it. Harry backpedaled while still sitting, and ended up crashing against the wall, sending pots tumbling to the floor.

"Wait!" Dumbledore said, holding up his hands. "Wait, please don't be startled! Hagrid told me about you."

"Dumbledore?!" Harry gasped.

The old man – his gray hair, beard, that face, those half-moon glasses and blue eyes – they were all his old Headmaster's…but Dumbledore was dead!

"Yes. I'm Albus Dumbledore…"

Harry slapped a hand to his cheek and shook his head, but when he looked again the gray old man was still there. Harry sought out the young and very much alive Hagrid standing near the fire.

"Let him talk to yeh –" Hagrid started to say, but it was too much; he'd had enough of this nightmare.

Harry grabbed the nearest pot and chucked it towards the two of them, using it as the diversion to bolt out the door.

It was barely light – there was a faint blue mist about the world. Snow covered the ground sparsely, and the footprints leading from the castle were clear. Harry was adding his own barefooted prints to the mix as he took off as fast as he could towards the Whomping Willow, but it was a great distance to run.

"Wait! Come back!" Harry heard Hagrid bellow behind him.

Adrenaline pumped in Harry's veins so hard he thought he'd drop like a stone. He needed to get out of this crazy place…there was nothing to trust about this insanity. Hagrid being alive was one thing…but Dumbledore was dead. He was dead!

Harry looked over his shoulder as he stormed towards the Whomping Willow and he saw both Hagrid and Dumbledore running towards him fast – catching up easily. Harry huffed and pulled all the strength he had in him to push his legs faster. He was running uphill on a slippery slope, though…he'd never make it before they caught him…

Salvation came from above. Harry heard the flap of its large wings before he saw it. He looked up and descending upon him was the great white dragon. It blended so perfectly with the atmosphere right now that it was hardly visible, but it stopped Harry's pursuers like they had crashed into a wall.

Harry reached up his arms and one of the dragon's feet was right there reaching for him. Its talons curled around Harry's torso, and he gripped tightly to its digits.

He got one swift look of Hagrid and Dumbledore's faces before he was swept away into the night; it was almost comical.

**I would appreciate reviews~**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks for all your reviews~ I updated Chapter 1 the most. 7 and 8 a little, too.**

The dragon fluttered chaotically through the air, jerking Harry to and fro. He hung on for dear life, afraid both that the dragon will let him go or hold him too tight. Being wrapped in a dragon's claw was only a scenario he ever pictured of when he might die. He hadn't felt afraid to be in the presence of a dragon for three years, but this dragon was a stranger he'd known no longer than a day. He wondered when their uses for each other would come to an end.

He could hardly see anything through the dense fog that had settled in the Forbidden Forest, but the tree tops constantly came in and out of sight and he knew they would be crashing soon. When a surprise wall of trees came into sight, the time had come. The dragon tried to flutter up and over them, but they crashed into the heavy snow splattered branches, and tumbled to the ground.

The dragon did what it could to keep from using its leg with Harry wrapped in it, but it was a close call. The dragon dropped him six feet above ground, and Harry landed barefooted into a thorny patch. He burst into hissing curses and stayed as still as he could to keep from being hurt more. Meanwhile, the dragon found its footing, and at last Harry could see the reason for the dragon's troubled flight: it had an arrow through its right wing.

_"Dragon! Dragon!"_ Harry called until he finally got its attention. _"Give me your tail! Pull me out!"_

The dragon grumbled and glared at him, but it swept its forty foot, white-scaled tail over to him. Harry grabbed onto the dull spikes that grew all about it, and the dragon lifted him to a more hospitable location.

Harry fell on his ass and pulled his feet off the snowy ground, getting his first look at the state of them. Every inch of his foot was punctured by a sharp barb. He cursed and gripped the one in his little toe.

_"Ow!"_ He shouted.

Blood dripped steadily from the wound, and he looked up with daggers in his eyes at the dragon.

_"Why did you drop me there?!"_

_"Idiot human!"_ growled the dragon, not willing to take the blame for his misfortune. The dragon had its own thorn to deal with.

_"I have to pull them all out!"_ Harry complained. _"I won't be able to stand at all!"_

The dragon wasn't listening; it was doing its best to try to get its teeth onto the arrow. It stretched its neck here…there…it tried bending like this…or like that…

It was pitiful watching a hundred-fifty-plus foot dragon try to curl into such a shape, but Harry didn't bother to stop it. He had his own thorns, and had so far taken out half a dozen already. His feet were only getting tenderer to the touch. Finally, the dragon lashed out its tail and swiped at several trees, knocking all the snow off them and sending what wildlife that was still hiding in the area running away.

_"Pull it out!"_ The dragon demanded.

Harry growled at him and did his own form of snapping his teeth – the universal signal for a dragon to leave someone alone.

It swiped its tail at him, but Harry ducked from it and then slapped it hard as it came back towards him.

_"I'm busy!"_

_"Idiot!"_ the petulant dragon growled, but stopped attacking him. It settled, found the best position for its wing, and just waited in a fuming state. It's starkly black eyes glared down at Harry, and its upper lip quivered in anger.

Harry pulled the last thorn out and finally pressed handfuls of snow to them. It was agony – he must have pulled out a hundred thorns.

_"Finished?"_ The dragon asked.

Harry looked up – finally – at the dragon. Where it was wounded was a trail of blood dripping down. Suddenly Harry felt a little guilty that he hadn't tended to the more serious of their wounds.

_"I can help you,"_ he told the dragon.

He didn't have to stand up to reach the arrow. The dragon swept its tail around and Harry grabbed it, wrapping his knees around it and balancing as if on a very thick broom. He was brought closer to the arrow, but didn't touch. The wooden arrow had a stone tip and black feathers on the end. The wound was inflamed and still bleeding.

_"What human did this to you?"_

_"A four-legged man with brown fur."_

Harry hadn't considered centaurs when they landed in the forest. If he had, he would have warned the dragon about them. Chances were the half-man half-horse person who attacked had fired without warning.

_"Did you burn him to death?"_ Harry asked.

The dragon huffed a great well of black smoke out._ "Yes!"_

Though disappointed by the answer, Harry didn't comment.

He finally came to a decision on how to extract the arrow from such a tender place. Dragon wings – according to poor dead Synwenty – were the most sensitive part of them besides their whiskers. It isn't widely known that a dragon can feel a butterfly land on even their longest horn, so any little scrape can put one of these great beasts into a foul mood. An arrow like this through a wing might even render it flightless for days or weeks.

Harry supported himself against the wing far from the wound, and carefully clamped his mouth over the wooden arrow close to the dragon's flesh, on the half of the arrow with the feathers. Smoke billowed from his mouth, which he let grow as hot as he could stand it. At last he felt the wood char enough, and he pulled his mouth away with half the arrow clamped between his teeth.

He tossed that half to the ground and reached around the other side of the wing. No matter how careful he was, as he pulled the stick out, what he got in return was a snapping and frothy beast.

The hole was no bigger than if he put his little finger through it, but it bled like a flood.

_"I'm not done yet," _Harry warned the beast.

The tail he sat on was beginning to shake, so he was quick about this next part. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against the wound, sending red-hot ashes smoking out the other side of the wing. He was only given seconds to do this, because the dragon flinched away and he was settled on the ground.

For all his trouble, the dragon only huffed and puffed.


	10. Chapter 10

Life for Harry at this moment was probably as bad as his best day in Gringotts. He was lame, the dragon was lame, and they were both in foul moods to the point they weren't even looking at each other. Harry sat against a tree with a small fire crackling and burning by his side. The smell of fresh wood was relaxing, and he watched the smoke float through the trees and out of sight. The heavy mist continued to blanket them, and stilled the air so not even birds made a sound.

He hadn't taken more than a dozen steps since their crash yesterday morning. Neither were capable of leaving their thicket of trees to go find food, so for a day and for half they starved. Harry was ready to start munching on twigs like the dragon was doing, but he just settled for ignoring the pain in his stomach as well as from his feet.

He tended his wounds the best way he knew how. When locked up and Voldemort's curses would cause him harm – or when he'd just gotten too close to the fire – he'd press his wounds against the cold metal wall or floor and wait for the swelling or burn to subside. He had an unfortunately large amount of snow to work with now, but even so, he wasn't ready to start doing more than hobble on the edges of his feet.

He wished he had shoes – for the thousandth time he wished that. And a coat.

Nothing really caught his attention about the dragon smoothly lifting its head and staring off into the black woods. He never would have noticed if the atmosphere weren't so silent that he could hear the scrape of the dragon's scales against each other. He looked over and saw the great white beast seeming intent, ears perked and forward facing.

He arched his neck around the tree trunk and looked behind where the dragon stared.

Nothing.

He didn't have an idea about what could have wakened the dragon from its rest.

He turned back to staring at his fire, and then he saw that standing right there on the other side of it was a great large arachnid.

His heart absolutely stopped. His body wouldn't move.

_Shhhhhpppt! Shhpppt! Shhpppt! _Sounded the furry black spider's massive pincers.

When Harry blinked, the spider leapt with all eight legs forward over the fire and onto his chest.

"AAAHHHHHH – !"

Immediately fire lit the gloomy woods and blasted heat into the chilled air. The gust of wind from it tousled every leaf on every tree nearby, sending thousands of them scattering to the forest floor. Spiders had jumped the dragon and it had lit the world up!

Harry was on his back fighting off the arachnid. Its pincers were inches from his neck, but Harry took his cue and exploded it into ashes with fire of his own. He rolled onto his stomach and crawled on his hands and knees over the expanse to the dragon.

He saw at least a dozen spiders already charred on the ground, and dozens more were scurrying around to avoid the dragon's flames or attacking tale. When they spotted Harry with their many eyes, they charged him. Those who got too close were dispatched like the others; the arachnids hadn't expected him to breathe fire as well.

_"We have to get out of here!"_ Harry shouted.

Crawling wouldn't cut it; he took to his feet and covered the distance to the dragon easily. By his side, Harry did what he could to crawl up its leg to its back. The spiders had flanked them and they were now surrounded.

_"Can you fly?"_ Harry asked, bellowing fire onto the many that were jumping to get him.

It was belatedly he remembered he had two goblin wands in his pocket, and now he grabbed one out and fired curses all around the dragon to protect them.

The dragon kept swiping its tail and breathing fire all around, and when one spider leapt high into the air it snapped its jaws around it, splaying Harry with red blood. Three of the spiders great legs and its head fell far below to the burning ground.

_"Yes, I can fly!"_ The dragon grunted and growled. _"But I'm hungry!"_

And with that, it swallowed the arachnid it had chomped.

Harry held tightly to the dragon's spines and watched it swallow two more spiders that were leaping through the air.

_"We have to go!"_ He yelled urgently, unable to keep up cursing the now hundreds of spiders that were coming for them. Harry could imagine the sort of feast a dragon would supply the arachnid family, but wondered if it was worth the loss of life.

Harry knew if this were Voldemort's crew, the Dark Lord would have no qualms about the numbers. Other people's lives were meaningless to him – that Harry had learnt well.

The dragon might have stayed there the whole day eating up those spiders. But what got the dragon to fly was one spider that had made it past all the defenses. It had crawled up a tree and fell onto them from above. It landed on the dragon's left wing and sunk its poisonous pincers into the tender leather.

The dragon roared in pain. Harry sizzled it dead with a curse.

_"Let's get out of here!"_ Harry screamed, grabbing two large chunks of the dragon's mane.

At last the dragon clawed up the sides of several trees and took flight. Harry held on for dear life once again as they flew several miles away. The end of that flight was the same as before, and they crashed by a flowing riverside onto large stones slick with sleet.

**What's an adventure story without lots of action, right?~**


	11. Chapter 11

The dark cover of the trees made Harry's frantic gallop through the Forbidden Forest nearly unobserved. He crashed through bushes, leapt over fallen logs, and slapped any tree that got in his direct path. He crossed paths with a total of four arachnids, and he cursed them to pieces with magic. For a few minutes he heard hoof beats around him, but once he bellowed fire at the trees the sound stopped. He didn't know if they stayed behind to quell the fire or what; he didn't care.

The dragon was poisoned, and it was dying. He had to save it, and so he was running to Hogwarts.

With a heavy heart, his knees nearly dragging the ground, he finally broke out of the forest and saw Hogwarts castle. His body shook with exhaustion and he was soaking wet from sweat so that even the ashes that covered his body had mostly been washed away. He still smelled like fire and burning wood, though.

He pocketed the wand that Pointed him safely here, and trudged in the shadow of the forest to Hagrid's hut. He about crawled up to the door and banged on it.

"Hagrid! Hagrid!" He yelled, gasping for breath. "Hagrid!"

No one came. He tried the door but it was locked, so he blasted the handle apart to get inside, but Hagrid wasn't there. He looked towards the castle.

The sun was going down but still golden light sparkled the winter day and reflected in all the windows of the castle. He started running for it.

It loomed taller and taller in the sky the closer he got. He forgot how just massive the place was. The tall towers, the owls flying about, the gargoyles and other such features carved into the stone. He nearly tripped on the stairs that led up to the main backdoor – those steps certainly slowed him down because he had to lift his heavy legs so high, and he stubbed his toes on each one.

At the back door he pushed, and it opened slowly.

He thought about Dumbledore, and he thought about Hagrid, and he wondered just what the hell else Hogwarts had to torture him with. If this strange world where his mental connection with Voldemort didn't exist but those two wizards did, then he had to question if the place he had come from wasn't hell…which would make this god-awful place paradise.

He was inside the castle, but it just about killed him.

He froze in place for a moment, eyes closed and head bowed, gripping the door behind him to stay up. It was warm and bright in here, but the most overwhelming sensation was the smell of food and the laughter of many voices.

Harry opened his eyes and looked up into the great open space. The lanterns were lit, casting almost no shadows all the way up the open room, around every winding staircase and corridor. The suits of armor glimmered and the picture colors were bright and opulent. Reds, greens, oranges, purples…it was beautiful and terrible.

At last Harry suppressed the sickening feeling it all gave him, and he remembered the white dragon laying by the riverside, quivering as the poison from the spider bite coursed through it.

He lifted his feet and walked, but it was as if he were walking through water. He left behind bloody footprints and he dripped with sweat, and he wasn't altogether sure if he would make it to the Great Hall where all the noise and rich smells came from. The doors were closed, so he pushed through.

He knew exactly where to look, but it became difficult when he walked through and everyone saw him, because the noise level increased and they all started to stand and move about. Harry's mind was overloaded. He wished it wasn't, but it was.

He was aghast and shaking like a leaf as he looked at their bright faces, the bright food, and all the bright lights within that room. He had just come running through a dark and bleak forest; this castle was a stark contrast to that.

Harry was lost for words until he saw Hagrid stand above everyone at the back of the room where the staff sat to eat.

"Hagrid!" Harry bellowed and his voice rang clear. There was an eerie rush as suddenly all talking stopped and everyone through the room turned to look at either Hagrid or him.

"Harry? Great Merlin's beard! Young man! Wha' yer doin' back here?"

"You have to help it, Hagrid!" Harry said, moving his feet one more painful step forward so he was fully in the room.

He felt filthier than ever in the presence of these bathed people. He hadn't had anything more than a bath in ashes for the past three years. Not to mention he hadn't changed clothes in just that long, and he was splattered in the blood of spiders.

But he was thrilled. He was in the presence of help.

Hagrid came directly for him, with Dumbledore on his heels. Harry glanced at the old wizard, but that man was the epitome of Hogwarts and all things lively, so he couldn't keep his tired eyes on him for long.

"We were attacked by the giant spiders!" Harry rushed to tell them.

Hagrid said, "Harry, let's take this –"

Hagrid wasn't acting as urgent as Harry would have liked. He was more worried for the kids being exposed to Harry's madness, but he didn't fully comprehend Harry's plight. So when Hagrid came near, Harry slammed his fists against Hagrid's great chest, rocking him backwards.

"It's poisoned, Hagrid! We were ambushed by Aragorg's spiders! Do you understand that?! Please! It's dying! You can't let it die!"

"It won't die, Harry!" Dumbledore said, and that was the tone he was looking for.

Harry turned to him and said, "Do you have the medicine for it? We have to go right now!"

Dumbledore agreed, but he turned to the school at large and addressed them, "I want everyone to stay in here until dinner is over!

"Horace! I will need your help!" Dumbledore called up to the staff table.

Dumbledore put his hands on Harry's shoulders and pushed him out of the Great Hall into the Entrance Hall beyond. It took a moment, but finally from within someone came rushing out. Harry knew Horace Slughorn, but the man who stood before him wasn't the old gentleman he remembered. This was a middle-aged man with fully colored hair and very few wrinkles. Harry closed his eyes from the sight of him and bowed his head, nearly gasping for breath.

"Horace," Dumbledore said quietly to him, "a dragon has been poisoned by an acromantula. Can you get together the potions to help it as fast as you can?"

Horace, bless him, tipped his chin without questions. "Yes, sir, I can. Give me two minutes – that's all I need!"

"I'll just go to the kitchens; it'll need somemat to drink!" Hagrid said and followed Horace in a hurry.

Harry watched them both go and started shivering.

"It couldn't fly here…it took me so long..." he muttered, shaking his head.

"It's okay, Harry," Dumbledore said, looking him over from head to foot, patting down his sweaty hair. "Is there anything I can get you as we wait?"

Harry shook his head; he was numb and there was only one way to fix it. They had to get to the dragon, and they had to do it better than running through the forest. Harry looked about and saw a familiar small door to the side of a suit of armor. He made to go over to it, and Dumbledore followed. Inside was nothing surprising – broomsticks. He reached in and grabbed three of them – a Nimbus 1000, a Nimbus 1001, and a Cleansweep.

"We have to fly there," he said, handing Dumbledore the Nimbus 1000.

He hadn't held a broom in so long that it was nostalgic to do so now. His huffs of exhaustion wheezed out a few puffs of ash over the broom as he slid his hands over the bristles and the name, wondering as he had wondered for so many years what ever happened to his Firebolt.

_Where is it? Why did it happen? How bad is it?_

Dumbledore's questions were ignored; they wouldn't help fix the dragon, so Harry would rather just wait for the medicine that would. Besides, talking with Dumbledore was difficult; he was there when the man died, and he was there when he was buried – he had even unburied him and seen him in his coffin! It was too much to even look at him.

The only comfortable thing about standing there and waiting was the noise level had dimmed, and he was becoming accustomed once again to the heavy smell of food. He knew he was hungry, but he couldn't imagine wanting anything at that moment.

"Harry, we will try to fix this," Dumbledore at last said.

Harry nodded, hoping it was true.

Hagrid returned first with a large keg under one arm.

"Malted whiskey," he said, patting the barrel.

"It looks like you'll need this one," Dumbledore said, passing over the Nimbus 1000 and reaching in the broom closet to grab out another Cleansweep. "Something with a bit more power," he explained to Harry.

Harry wasn't about to give up the Nimbus 1001; he had to get back to his dragon as fast as he could.

At last Slughorn met them, holding a large black bag. Harry handed him the other Cleansweep and took it saying, "Interesting…" as he looked Harry over.

Harry mounted his broom right then and soared to the door he'd come in from. His bloody red footprints trialed in from this door, the other three noticed.

"Follow me!" He yelled behind him as he pulled the door open.

They followed out into the freezing sunset. Harry frequently looked behind him to make sure they were still there. Hagrid lagged behind the most, and Slughorn was particularly unsteady.

It was no Firebolt, but they got to the dragon in ten minutes, just as the sun was going down on the horizon. The fog had already settled in by the rushing river where the dragon laid on the bank in the mud and icy sludge. Harry landed right next to its face and shook it's colorless head.

_"I've brought help!"_ He growled.

The others landed a little ways off, staring with wide eyes at the momentous dragon. Harry looked to Slughorn and yelled, "Help him!"

Hagrid came over immediately and pulled the cork on the keg. Harry quickly grabbed the dragon's upper lip and with all his strength he lifted it. Hagrid reached in and helped, making sure his fingers were between the teeth against its gums. The great mouth opened and Hagrid tipped the keg inside. The dragon gurgled it down.

"Where was it bitten?" Slughorn asked.

Harry left Hagrid to pour and climbed up onto the dragon's back where it had its wings curled up in pain.

"This one," Harry said reaching for Slughorn, who hesitated, but took Harry's hand anyway and was allowed to climb onto the dragon's back.

He stood like a man on a boat in rough seas. Harry carefully pulled the wing open enough to see where the infection was inflamed and puss leaked out.

"It was shot by an arrow in its other wing two nights ago," Harry said in tone of voice full of the painful memory and stressful situation.

"I can do this," Slughorn said excitedly, though with a bit of fear. Hagrid went to help with the wing – holding it out and also keeping Slughorn from toppling over.

Harry lowered himself between the dragon's shoulder blades and slid up to its head.

_"You're going to be okay…"_ he muttered against its mane, caressing its ears and reaching around to pat its cheeks and forehead.

It never opened its eyes or responded to him, but it growled in pain and twitched when Slughorn started working on it, shivering its wings which was quite unhelpful.

_"No no no! Stay still!"_ Harry urged, patting everywhere on its face and neck he could reach.

He looked aghast at Dumbledore, who was staring with similar worry at both him and the dragon.

The medicine was given, but the dragon was only getting worse. While there was nothing left the other three could do, Harry knew he could still be helpful. He continued to disregard his wounded feet and went all around the dragon to do what he could to keep it warm. He constantly bathed it in ashes and lit fires all around it. He smoked the mud and blood off its legs, body, wings, and tail until it was pale scales once again. The ground by the riverside got so hot it was becoming like clay, but still the dragon seemed cold and lethargic.

He tried not to cry and he tried not to sleep, but he failed at both. Laying across its neck against the soft and warm mane Harry drifted off. The others sat on the rocks and kept watch.

**I was going to introduce some other familiar characters in this chapter...but then I thought of a better way to bring them in. Hang tight~**


	12. Chapter 12

He had perhaps a rude awakening, but one he relished in. The dragon awoke and lifted its head to stretch and yawn, toppling Harry and sending him falling onto his back into a deep, cold mud puddle next to its head. Slughorn was dozing by the fire and missed it, but Hagrid and Dumbledore smiled in relief, although they were vexed by the relationship of the two before them.

The dragon heard the splash and titled its head just to the side. It saw Harry laying flat but reaching up to him, and it and pressed its nose to those outstretched hands. Hot smoke emitted from the nostrils – a very good sign.

Harry sat up with relief and an exhausted smile, dripping sloppy mud off the whole of his back and head. The dragon then looked behind Harry at the three and changed its whole posture, getting just a bit more defensive. The three wizards were twice the distance away from the dragon as the dragon was long, and so it felt comfortable enough not to feel threatened.

Seeing the dragon moving easily, Harry immediately stood and held his arms out from his sides, asking, _"Can you spread your wings?"_

The dragon gingerly did, and though it couldn't spread them totally, it could open them enough to see the puss had gone, and it was barely inflamed. It was as pleased as a dragon might be to realize it would live. It looked down at Harry and nudged his body with its nose.

_"You are filthy. Be like you were, human…"_ muttered the dragon, though it was purring. Harry ducked his head because he knew what was coming – his friend Synwenty had done it to him constantly. The dragon let from his mouth and nose ash and smoke hot enough to boil a lobster; it crusted the mud on Harry's body and all around his feet in seconds, effectively cementing Harry into the ground. So Harry rubbed all over his head to get as much mud off as he could.

In the end, he was covered in a new layer of gray ashes, and he lost the smell of sweat and burning forest. He pulled his feet out of the ground and stood on dry land. The two of them regarded each other.

_"Do you have a name?"_ Harry asked.

_"I do. It is Nhesher."_

_"Nhesher. I'm Harry."_


	13. Chapter 13

Slughorn and Dumbledore were sitting on the cold rocks next to the heavily flowing river, watching Hagrid and Harry look over the dragon's wings further away. Slughorn hadn't taken his eyes off Harry in quite some time; he was afraid to miss something like he'd missed a few minutes before.

"I said it before and I'll say it again: interesting." Slughorn said, indicating the crowd over there with his chin.

Dumbledore was also pondering the three of them – or perhaps just the one of them – and only nodded vaguely in agreement. Slughorn moved his feet closer to their fire.

"Is it just me, or does he look the splitting image of James Potter?"

All Dumbledore did was vaguely nod again.

"Oh, come on, Albus! I know you've met before. What do you know about him?"

Dumbledore finally looked at Hogwart's potions professor. "Hagrid told me his story, but you'd have a hard time believing it if I told you."

"Try me anyway," he said as he pulled his coat tighter around him. "I'm cold, and I don't like to be cold. The house elves are serving breakfast as we speak and I'm missing it. I'd like to know the reason I'm letting this happen to me, if you don't mind?"

Dumbledore smiled and consented. It was an easy enough story to tell; not an easy one to live, he was sure. As he talked, Slughorn listened intently and was quite convinced it was the whole truth.

"And you suspect they're…what?"

"I think Harry is James's nephew," Dumbledore said.

"And he was You Know Who's lover for the past three years? Ho-hum. The Dark Lord is stodgy."

Dumbledore agreed.

"Do you suspect he's in the Dark Lord's corner?"

"That, I couldn't say. And –" he mentioned now, furrowing his brow and considering his next words carefully. "– I don't think Harry was ever willingly You Know Who's, despite him saying he was his. I agree with Hagrid – that he's looking for people to help him find revenge."

"Well," Slughorn said, tossing another log onto the fire, "he hasn't tried to kill any of us yet, but do you trust him?"

Dumbledore nodded sagely. "Alas, Horace, I have come to realize that Harry is alive because he fought and persevered. That dragon –" he indicated the large beast, who now was being led by its whiskers by young Harry for some reason or other "– is loved by Harry, despite him only knowing it for three days. And that dragon has come to trust Harry. I believe this may be because dragons are the only thing Harry trusts, and it senses that."

"Or Harry just told it so. Either way, you're a batty old man sometimes, Albus. Get to the point. Do you _trust_ him?"

Dumbledore chuckled and stroked his beard. "If Harry trusts no one but that dragon, then I can trust him _not_ to trust You Know Who."

Slughorn was silent for a moment, considering that. Harry Potter fell out of the clear blue sky, and yet somehow he was perhaps one of the most key players on the board. How was it that they knew nothing about him before now?

"He might be a spy."

"He might."

Slughorn raised his eyebrow, looking sidelong at Dumbledore. "But he also might be an ally?"

Dumbledore touched his nose.

Slughorn shook his head, but even he could see the potential of having the Dark Lord's lover on their side. If Harry was willing to give up secrets then they just might win this war.


	14. Chapter 14

**Verdict's in. I got some nice compliments for the name Nhesher, so I guess that'll be it. I would pronounce it [n'hes-her] if you were having trouble deciding how to yourself.**

Hagrid, Dumbledore, and Slughorn left early that morning, but Hagrid promised to return around noon with something for them to eat. Harry was still nervous since the arachnids attacked and hadn't quite found his appetite yet. Nhesher seemed also to not be so worried about food – since eating the poisonous spiders and its venomous bite, the dragon was content to just ponder birds and fish without a word or a growl.

Harry was sitting a small distance down the river from the dragon, allowing them to have some time to themselves. There were tall trees all around him, the loud river gushing freezing water to his side, and the sky was clear of mist this day. It was the first time since they flew away from Gringotts that the two of them could see into the distance. It was a moment he was committing to memory, because it was the first moment he had friends and a clearer idea of what he had to do.

He didn't need Nhesher anymore – he knew that. The dragon and he were both now healed thanks to Slughorn's potions, and in a few hours Hagrid was going to show up with food for them. Healed, fed, and that would be it – they'd be whole and capable of taking care of themselves.

He wanted it to stay with him, but at the same time he knew it would probably lead to a longer life for the great dragon if it left him now and flew to a dragon reserve. Maybe he would go with it, just to make sure it got there safely…

Harry looked behind him at the relaxed dragon. Neither of them was totally off guard – there were centaurs and acromantula about, so they had to keep a sharp eye – but so far nothing had bothered them enough to warrant strengthening their defenses and going closer together. The time alone let him think…and plan.

He had come to trust that Hagrid and Dumbledore being alive didn't mean he was insane or dead or something. He figured if this were hell there would be worse things for him to face, and if it was heaven he'd have seen his parents and Sirius by now. But the fact that Slughorn was here disagreed with both possibilities. He knew for a fact that Slughorn was still alive three days ago when he was still in prison, because hunting Slughorn was one of the top items on Voldemort's to-do list. Slughorn was too good to be found, and Harry was sure he never would be.

But Slughorn, Hagrid, and Dumbledore all didn't know him. They didn't know his name; they didn't know anything about him. Part of him wished this was the after-life because then he wouldn't have to face the fact that just maybe – just maybe – he had fallen through time and into the past.

Harry did his best to recall all the specifics of the clock he had crawled into to escape Voldemort's pursuit. It had an elaborate face and those gears within it were amazing and complicated. He'd squeezed behind the heavy weight and closed the door, and the clock had been righted, which started it ticking again. He couldn't have been within it for more than fifteen minutes, but the highly powerful devise hadn't killed him – he was pretty sure of that, anyway. So in that case, it had transported him.

Now, if he just wrapped his head around that, he could move on to what was next: exploring the possibility that he might have the secret to killing Voldemort.

Synwenty liked to talk. For three years Harry listened to its rumbling and chattering like a good cellmate. He heard all the stories – many of them he heard many times over – but the one that Synwenty told perhaps once every few months was all about his years guarding the Horcruxes during the First Wizarding War. He told Harry where he guarded them, the path there, the defenses, the measures in place to keep them safe.

And Harry – because a boy could dream – once asked him if anyone had ever tried to break in and destroy them.

_"Impossible…no one knew they were there except us who guarded them, and the Dark Lord."_

Harry couldn't say his body wasn't tingling with the idea of trying this. He regretted so much that there was so little he actually did during the war. Sure, he found all the Horcruxes, but he never destroyed them all. Naginni lived to the day she met Ron and Hermione on the border of Scotland, and then they were all so close to ending the war. Harry had thought about killing himself to remove the final Horcrux from the world – making Voldemort mortal – but it became clear that Ron and Hermione were done trying to hunt Voldemort and they were focused on finding him. Years might pass before they knew he was dead, and even then Voldemort might have made more Horcruxes.

Nhesher caught his attention from the corner of his eye. The great white dragon stood and moved over to him.

_"There are hoofed-men coming towards us," _it growled.

Harry stood and stretched briefly. _"Where will we go? My friend said he would come find us."_

_"We have to leave, Harry. Do not consider your friend."_

Harry pulled himself up onto the dragon's scaly neck, grabbing clumps of its blond hair. Its ears were perked and twitching to the left in the way they do when it's listening.

It took flight swiftly, heading south in the direction of Hogwarts.

_"Are we going to land near the castle?"_ Harry asked loudly, bellowing white smoke from his mouth as he talked.

_"We can't stay here any longer. Either the hoofed-men or the spiders will kill us."_

Harry agreed; they'd be better off somewhere else. Besides…there was something he had to do. The idea of doing it alone, though, made him shiver.

_"Where will you go if you leave me?"_ Harry asked.

It actually took a nice long moment for the dragon to answer him.

_ "No place you will want to go."_

Harry was genuinely surprised by the answer.

_"Why is that?" _

_"There's a place only dragons go. It will not be safe for a human…even one who speaks to us."_

_"There is somewhere I want to go to, Nhesher. Someone once told me all about it…I think I'm going to check if it's real."_

The two of them came within sight of Hogwarts now. Nhesher's outstretched wings held steadily as he soared forward.

_"Will I leave you here?"_ It asked Harry.

Harry gripped the dragon's mane and pursed his lips, feeling uncommonly cheerless.

_"No. I have questions. I need to find the answers."_

Nhesher flapped its wings and they moved higher…higher…higher. Hogwarts moved past them far below and soon was behind them.

_"Do you need a ride?" _Nhesher asked him.

Harry tore his eyes away from the castle and looked around to see Nhesher looking backwards at him with a great black eye.

_"Where I'm going…we might not survive. There are other dragons there; they are very dangerous."_

Nhesher didn't hesitate to ask, _"Which direction should we go?"_

Harry felt then a sudden ache in his chest, and it wasn't hunger or fear – it was love.

_"We must turn back. My answers are far to the north."_

Nhesher easily coarse corrected, turning them in a wide arch to the left. They flew back over Hogwarts the next minute, only this time there were small dots of people outside. Harry could barely make them out, but their bright hats gave them away; some students had come out to see the dragon flying overhead.

They passed the school and were on their way to their next destination. Harry ducted low to hide under the blanket of the dragon's mane, protecting his head from the chill on his face. His legs were warmed by the dragon's body, which would make this trip bearable.

_"Where are we going exactly?"_ Nhesher growled to him.

_"I think you would call it a place worse than the goblin prison."_

_"And what would you, Harry, call it?"_

_"Me? I would call it…a place like home."_

Home: the place Synwenty lived.

And off they went into the hazy north.

**The next chapter will take place two weeks after they took off…**


	15. Chapter 15

**Two weeks passed since Harry flew off on Nhesher…**

Having friends who could turn into their Animagus forms just for him made this time of the month all the more bearable. Remus was minutes away from changing into the werewolf, which was unusual for this hour; he had at least another forty minutes until the moon was full and the transformation usually took place, but there was something pulling the werewolf out sooner than expected.

For the past two days Remus had been feeling the pull of the werewolf stronger than ever, and though he told his friends there was something strange happening, there was nothing they could do to make him believe it was normal. Remus had this feeling – as if something was out in the forest that the werewolf in him wanted to go check out.

He hadn't bothered to go to Madam Pomfrey and get her to check him out of his Astronomy class tonight. He was changing fast and had to get out of the school and to the Whomping Willow in a hurry. The Shrieking Shack was the safest place for him for this month's change. If something was out in the Forbidden Forest the werewolf wanted to see, then that was exactly where he shouldn't be.

"Here we go again!" James said, loping behind Remus with Sirius at his side as they marched fast for their secret passageway.

Usually they were under the Invisibility Cloak when they came out this way, but it was early still and everyone was still attending their final class before dinner. James and Sirius feigned concern for their friend and offered to drag him to the nurse's office, but here they were outside and headed for werewolf territory.

"Too bad Slughorn wouldn't let Wormtail come with us," Sirius said gloomily, looking at the Whomping Willow come closer into view.

James smiled and slapped him on the shoulder. "Afraid of a few branches, Padfoot?"

"Guys, shut up!" Remus moaned, clutching at his head and stomach at once. He was sweaty and starting to curl in on himself.

"Grumpy," Sirius said, eyes sparkling as he glanced back up at the castle, looking to make sure there weren't any witnesses to see him transform. James scooped up his jacket, shoes, and school robe after he'd successfully merged into his big black dog Animagus.

Sirius bolted fast past Remus and did his customary zigzag leaps under the shadow of the Whomping Willow…but it was pointless; the tree didn't attack as it usually did.

Remus and James stopped in their tracks. Under the tree, standing right where he should be getting a good beating by the branches, Sirius also stared up.

Carefully, he moved forward to investigate the base of the tree. All at once Sirius changed back into human form and said to them, "There's something already here! Someone's been using our pathway!"

James and Remus – though not feeling like there was much time for distractions – moved forward and looked where their friend pointed. On the knot that kept the Whomping Willow calm when pressed sat a large red jewel.

"Wow, looks expensive," James said.

"Don't be daft; it's fake!" Sirius said.

Remus was fed up with it all and pushed them aside to get into the space below the tree. Sirius hurried to follow and James plucked the jewel from the tree and pocketed it, hurrying after. Before they even made it to the other side Remus started shifting. James fell far behind Sirius, who was now in his dog form and ready to herd the werewolf forward if it came to that, which it didn't. They made it into the Shrieking Shack just in time for Remus to morph and crash through a weakened part of the house's outer wall and into freedom beyond.

"Remus! No!" James yelled, tearing up the floor to get a look through the hole in the wall.

"He's not going to the village is he?" Sirius had more than a little fear in his voice as he asked that.

Remus was clearly visible in the sunset light, and he was running straight for the Forbidden Forest.

"We should have just snuck into the woods if he wanted to run like this!" James complained, hopping out of the hole and into the thick snow that had clumped up by the side of the house.

"Don't tell me…now we have to chase him down?"

The two boys neared the edge of the forest casually, but as soon as they were within the heavily wooded area they transformed and started galloping forward, following the tracks in the snow left by the werewolf. They had all night to tire the animal out, but usually it was a pain to get it to do more than smell around and scamper after rabbits. They hadn't seen the beast this intent to chase something since it caught wind of a unicorn last year.

...

A few hours after the sun had set, the clouds parted, revealing the full moon and bright stars. They were camped out in a small clearing some miles from Hogwarts, recuperating for the third day since they came back down from the north. Nhesher was sleeping deeply nearby, its deep breaths gusting warmth over Harry, who was laying between a folded blanket Hagrid had given him upon their return, and looking up at the sky. Under the blanket were hot coals keeping him warm in the sub-zero December temperature. He wasn't sure about winter in 2000, but winter in 1977 had some cold nights.

He was on watch. The two of them came to the agreement they'd better keep moving while they were camping in this forest in order to avoid the natives. Hagrid had camped out with them the night before and brought gifts of food and comfort. Harry had come across a new outfit two weeks ago, but the blanket was most welcome.

He was relaxed and watching the stars…up until he heard a commotion in the forest in the direction his head was facing. He rolled over onto his belly and recognized the sound as menacing growling getting very close.

"No no no," he moaned, upset that they had two and a half solid days of peace, now broken by a stupid animal who smelled something interesting.

_Just wait until you see what you're so interested in,_ Harry thought gleefully. During their trip, plenty of small dragons had come upon them looking for a fight, only to take one look at Nhesher's massive size and turn running. If Nhesher was hungry they didn't always get away.

_"Nhesher. Nhesher!"_ Harry yelled, jumping out of his blanket and running over in his big black boots to push and shake the dragon awake.

The beast onto their scent burst through the edge of the forest just as Nhesher opened its eyes. Harry was caught off guard; he didn't expect it to be a werewolf.

The werewolf lashed out with tooth and claw. Next to him, Nhesher sprang to its own four legs and opened its mouth to give a mighty, echoing dragon roar. Razor sharp teeth as long as Harry's hand, a forked tongue, and saliva sparking with wisps of flames made the white scaled dragon infinitely more ferocious than the measly six-foot shabby werewolf.

But one bite…one scratch…and Harry knew taking on a dragon would be preferable any day of his lifetime.

The werewolf took a cue from the right idea and skidded to a halt, ears back and tail tucking between its legs. It scampered off to the trees and Harry almost relaxed until it came back around. This time it kept a distance, but it yipped and growled like a right annoying fly.

Two weeks in the pits of hell and Harry was considering a werewolf an annoying fly. It was times like this he wondered where it all went wrong.

Harry heard the familiar sound of fire accumulating in Nhesher's mouth. It was a hollow sort of gust accompanied by two seconds of silence, and then it would come. But just at the end of the intake of breath something new leapt into the clearing and was racing at top speed towards the werewolf: a dog.

A great black dog.

Harry, suddenly and with horror, recognized the werewolf for what it was.

"NOOOOO!"

Panic and adrenaline allowed Harry to run the half dozen steps to the dragon's chin in a second, and he leapt high into the air, grabbing its long whiskers that dangled there. His momentum effectively jerked the dragon's head around as Harry swung, hanging off the whiskers. The dragon's fire cascaded over the head of the werewolf and bathed the snow covered trees.

The heat was like a shockwave and lit up the whole clearing like daylight. Harry slipped off the dragon's sensitive whiskers and landed hard on the frozen earth, tumbling and rolling. The dragon lashed out with its tail and some hot black smoke, wailing in pain for its whiskers.

Its distraction and Harry's exposed body paved way for the werewolf to charge at Harry. It was close – it was so close – and Harry wasn't armed or prepared at all. He was pretty sure he saw his life flash before his eyes…

And then the big dog came growling and barking and was the distraction Harry needed to pull his wits together and let loose a gust of black smoke and fire of his own. The werewolf was feet away from him, but it stopped like it had hit a wall and it whined in pain.

The dragon swept it far away and against a tree with one might slap of its claw. Harry looked on in horror as the werewolf collapsed with a cry onto the ground. The big black dog turned and ran for it, finally not too afraid of the dragon to go help his friend.

_"Pesky animals!"_ The dragon grumbled, preparing to conjure up some flames.

_"Don't kill them!"_ Harry bellowed, untwisting himself from the floor and rushing to get between the dragon and the dogs.

The dragon stopped its forward motion and looked Harry in the eyes. Harry held his hands out before him, facing the dragon. It was then he realized: if Sirius and Remus were here…then so was James.

Harry's blood turned cold in his body. He looked around the forest, using the light from the burning trees to see by. There to his side and deep in the woods far away were the glossy eyes of a large stag coming nearer. It was walking, carefully examining the situation but unwilling to enter the clearing.

Harry's lapse in attention allowed the dragon time to act ferociously, and it stood tall and looked down on the two dogs and roared its great loud roar once again. And then it started to breathe fire again.

Harry held his hands out and shouted, _"No! Don't cook them! You better not cook them!"_

Nhesher listened to him; it uplifted its chin at the last second and shot its fire into the sky. The great bellow alighted the night for miles around, and lit the tops of the trees. Harry left the dragon's underbelly and ran towards the werewolf and the dog, stopping within ten feet of both of them. He was panting – they all were panting – but he had to be sure Remus was okay.

The dog was poised and ready to defend its friend if Harry got too near. Harry looked over the wounded werewolf, and finally he looked at Sirius.

The situation was handled…the werewolf wasn't getting up anytime soon, Sirius probably wouldn't attack him, the dragon was obeying him…Harry was so relieved he couldn't help smiling. And then a cocky grin spread over his mouth.

"Mine is bigger than yours," he said jauntily.

As if to illustrate, the dragon erupted in an almighty roar again that shook leafs and the very bones of everyone around, spreading its long white wings out. Unlike the rest, Harry understood the words mingled within that roar, but they weren't anything to smile about.

_"Stay away!"_ The dragon warned. _"I will kill!"_

Harry twirled around; the dragon wasn't talking to any of them as it said it.

_"What is it? What's coming?"_

_"Hoofed-men! You must mount!"_ The dragon growled.

It scooped its long neck down, mouth gaping, and to Sirius and James looking on, it seemed as if the dragon was going to gobble him down. But Harry leapt over the many teeth and turned within the air, landing with his legs around the dragon's neck just behind its skull. He grabbed tight its mane.

Harry turned back to the dog and saw the large stag close by, half in and half out of the forest now. His mind suddenly caught up with the moment. His dragon was going to take flight – they had often needed to take flight in a hurry like this, and Harry was so far just going through the motions, but if the centaurs were coming then…

Harry remembered Hagrid's words: _They will kill all dark things in this forest to protect Hogwarts and the students. They won't think twice to shoot at you if they find you._

_"Wait!"_ Harry yelled to his dragon, tugging on its ears to keep it grounded.

The dragon stopped, and suddenly the war cries of a great number of centaurs began.

_"Idiot human! We must fly!" _Cursed the dragon.

_"No! The hoofed-men will kill these three! We must save them!"_

_"Time has passed for rescue!"_

_"No!" _Harry commanded urgently, and he took a deep breath and yelled as loud as he could over the sound of the battle-charged centaurs who hunted them, "My dragon will not hurt you! But the centaurs will kill you all! You have to come with me!"

He turned to the dragon and said in Dracotongue, _"Carry the wounded, my friend! Carry us to safety! These are my friends as well as you!"_

The dragon didn't hesitate to rush the short distance over. Its movement frightened the dog and stag to fall off balance and back into the forest, but they were still near.

_"Come on!" _Harry yelled to them.

The dragon gripped the werewolf gently in its mouth, and Sirius was right there before them. Harry held out his hand to the black dog.

"Turn human already! Hurry! The centaurs will kill you!"

He didn't have to be told twice, and neither did James. Over by the side of the clearing, the stag came leaping, and then a boy came running.

Before his eyes morphed the animals into teenaged boys clothed in simple slacks without shirts or shoes. They ran forward, feeling easier because the dragon's mouth was full and it wasn't looking at them as they came.

Harry gripped Sirius's arm first and pulled him up behind him, and then James pulled himself up using Sirius's body. They both gripped Harry and the dragon tightly.

_"Stretch your wings!"_ Harry declared, hanging on tight to himself and to Sirius's arm around his chest.

They were a second from lifting off when the forest burst to life with the bodies of the centaurs. The fire lit their angry faces and painted bodies like devils. Their bows were stretched and their arrows let fly in that moment.

The two boys yelled in fear and ducked as the cascade hit the iron plates of the dragon's body, bouncing off uselessly. They were off the ground a moment later, all three gripping what was in front of them to stay aloft, wrapping their legs tightly around the neck of the dragon.

Harry relaxed only when they were above the treetops and out of range of the centaurs. But his eyes stung with tears, and he looked down at his chest to see half an arrow sticking out from above his right pectoral; it had entered through the bone of his shoulder blade and froze his arm in position. The pain was only just starting to be felt.

"Sirius!" Harry heard James say, and his voice sent shivers down Harry's spine – his father's voice.

"This is intense!" Sirius shouted, too blinded by adrenaline to notice anything wrong.

"Sirius – I'm hit! Aghh!"

Harry's heart sank.

James had been pierced by two arrows close together in his lower back above his hip on the right side. Every flap of the dragon's wings disturbed James's wounds, making him ready to pass out from the pain. Harry wasn't far behind.


	16. Chapter 16

**Thank you so much for everyone reading and all my reviewers!**

The air was filled with rushing flurries of snow that sailed past his face and stung like wasp pricks when they hit him. They were flying fast and irregularly thanks to the dragon's beating wings. Up they went into the clouded night sky. The moon came in and out of focus behind those clouds, and the stars were bright.

He was between two people on their last breath – with arrows stuck out of gushing wounds – and a stranger's blood spilling over a black leather jacket onto him. Sirius's blood was as cold as the winter air, but the dragon rider's was as hot as fire. Sirius's only hopes now were that none of them would die, and that his friend Remus was still only in the mouth of the dragon and not in its stomach.

He gritted his teeth and looked around below them. They were steadily rising and moving fast towards the west. Hogwarts was back behind them a good ways and getting smaller.

"We have to turn around!" he yelled into the dragon rider's ear, trying his best not to disturb his shoulder wound, but the dragon rider didn't respond to him at all.

He didn't know what to do; the dragon rider was growing and curled over on himself in pain, and James's head was pressed against his back and he was clutching hard to Sirius's ribs. Sirius looked behind and around James at the two wooden arrows. They didn't pierce all the way through so there wasn't reason to fear his own back getting pierced, but they leaked blood over the white scales of the dragon and flew off behind them because of the wind. James needed help and he needed it right now.

"Hey!" Sirius demanded of the dragon rider, grabbing his good shoulder and shaking him. "Do you hear me?! Turn this dragon around!"

For his trouble he got a snarl and a great cloud of black ashes gust back to him and into his eyes. The smoke was hot and reminded him just how cold he probably was…but he could hardly feel a thing besides adrenaline. How the smoke appeared he didn't know, but the dragon rider was being unreasonable! Why he ever thought a man who owned a dragon would be reasonable he also didn't know, but he had to save his friend from bleeding to death behind him.

Then he noticed something: with what little strength he did have, the older man in front of him was tugging on the animal's mane.

_Do dragon's normally listen? _Sirius thought incredulously, suddenly realizing all the tugging on the dragon's mane meant turning signals!

Well, tugging there didn't work, so Sirius weighed his options briefly and then did what he thought he had to do: he grabbed a hold of as much mane hair as he could get his fist around, and he tugged as hard as he possibly could to the left. What followed was a deep objective rumble deep within the dragon's throat – which he was sitting above – and the dragon's head was jerked to the side with its body soon following.

"There!" Sirius said triumphantly. "Now…fly us to Hogwarts, you great big beast!"

In front of him, the dragon rider turned as much as he could and glared at Sirius with an angry twitch to one of his eyebrows. Sirius saw then how remarkably bright his eyes were, but in the odd light from the moon, he couldn't make out the color. Sirius felt suddenly uncomfortable about the fact he was so close to this unstable man, and wished to be quickly at Hogwarts.

James's moans of pain from behind him kept him from apologizing to him at all. Something had to be done, and he did it, so he didn't care if anyone was angry him – dragon rider or dragon!

The castle came within sight and there weren't many lights on; it was long after Sirius would usually be in bed. The white dragon was glaring bright in the moonlight, though. Its scales picked up all that light around it and reflected it off like a white flying beacon. Sirius had never had a view of Hogwarts from up here, but he would have preferred that if he had it wouldn't have been with his best friend shaking in pain behind him.

"We're almost there, James!" He said.

"…Re…Remus…?" James muttered, teeth chattering.

"I see him, James. He's fine. He's fine…" Sirius said this quietly, looking as best he could over at Remus and their intended landing place without disturbing James any.

The descent nearly brought his stomach up through his throat but he held it together. It was at the moment they were clearly headed for the southern-most tower, and Sirius noticed then the North Tower was lit up and crowded with dozens of students looking over the edge and down onto them with mouths agape. It was the astronomy class that Remus should have been attending. Sirius could hear them chattering in terror and awe, but it was too dark for any faces to be made out clearly. Obviously that was a good thing: there was no reason they should know it was them coming here with Remus in tow, or they'd have to explain why the two boys and a werewolf showed up, but the three of them walked out the infirmary the next day.

The dragon wrapped its hundred-fifty foot wingspan around the shorter tower roof and came to a sudden, jerking stop. James actually screamed in pain that time. Sirius dug his fingers into his arm that was still wrapped around his chest and didn't dare let go. If he did – at this more vertical position – James would slide off and fall to imminent death.

The dragon reached its head up to the floor atop the tower, and there was the ground just a step below.

"Get off!" The dragon rider said, and together they all leaned to the left and slid off. James kept going and fell on his side, but Sirius held him to make sure he made it there slowly. Blood was pouring from his two lower-back wounds into the white snow collected up there. He didn't know blood was so dark when against snow and under moonlight.

They were on the floor in the snow, but the dragon was still hanging off the side of the tower. The chattering voices were dimming and now Sirius looked over there. Everyone was disappearing into the castle; probably a good thing.

The dragon rider held his wounded arm close to his side and had his other hand on the nose of the dragon, guiding it as it lowered Remus, the werewolf, to the floor. He was set down gently, but wasn't moving at all. There was a white haze coming from the dog-like nose, though.

The dragon growled and rumbled an assortment of short sounds, and was – Sirius couldn't help but think – _replied_ to by the man, because from him came another assortment of growls and rumbles with sparks of light to his lips.

_Are they talking?_ Sirius wondered in awe.

The next moment they both turned and looked at the two huddled together on the floor watching them. James's face was contorted in pain and he was breathing harshly. Sweat soaked his body.

"Is he okay?" Sirius asked about Remus.

"Yes. He's breathing," said the dragon rider.

James moaned and gasped for breath, shaking harder in Sirius's arms. Sirius looked down and saw James as pale as the snow. But James had his eyes open and was staring right at the dragon rider. Though he seemed ready to give in to the pain and just go into a haze until help arrived, James couldn't. Sirius could see why, too. When looking at the dragon rider, he felt like he was looking at a slightly older version of James.

The two have everything in common: wild black hair – although the stranger's was much longer; that jaw; that nose; that mouth, their facial coloring. It was everything except the trimmed beard and the eyes, which were so much lighter than James's. And when the stranger had smiled at him back in the forest and had said '_mine is bigger than yours'_ with that arrogant smile…well, Sirius thought he was talking to James.

The dragon rider came over and knelt by their side. The look that crossed his face was full of misery and worry. Sirius saw him reach out then, but he didn't try to stop it. The stranger cupped James's face with his good hand and swallowed hard.

Sirius heard pain in his voice as he said, "You really don't know me, James?"

Confusion built up in Sirius until he couldn't hold it in any more.

"Who are you?" he asked and he was sure he'd never asked something he so wanted an answer to more before.

The stranger looked over James's body with worry, and then looked up at Sirius with that same sorrowful expression.

"Sirius," he said quietly and much to Sirius's surprise, "I – I…"

He was lost for words, his mouth open but silent. Sirius was two feet from him, but even still there was no masking the fact that though he couldn't speak, it didn't mean there wasn't a lot to say.

And then suddenly violence broke out behind the kneeling stranger – the dragon had jerked its head from watching them to face the door. A second after that, the stranger screamed with pain into the night as surely a blinding pain wrack through his body. Sirius watched his whole body jerk and flail; the dragon had clamped down its massive jaw onto the arrow in his back, and it snapped it right off.

It was such a sudden and fierce attack that the stranger had no way of stopping it, and Sirius had no way of warning him about it. Those lightly colored eyes rolled into his head and he clamped his mouth closed onto the scream, but still it echoed all around.

The dragon rider fell back onto his ass and scooted away from the dragon, but quick as a fox, the dragon snatched the arrowhead sticking out from the stranger's chest and pulled the whole thing out. Sirius cringed in fear just from watching, and James shook with new pain as every muscle in his body tensed from witnessing the violence and abuse.

The dragon rider grumbled and gurgled, sparks snapping all around his lips. Sirius knew for sure then that he really _was_ talking to the dragon, because he was looking right at him and his expressions said it all.

_Why did you do that?_ He was probably saying.

Whatever the response was it involved the need to get the rider back onto its back. The dragon wrapped its long tail up towards the three of them and maneuvered it under the stranger's body, scooping him up and plopping him onto the back of its neck.

The stranger barely had the strength to hang on, so what was the dragon thinking? He would die if he didn't get help, same as James!

"Stop!" Sirius yelled at the two of them. He quaked when the dragon's eyes landed onto him; those eyes were fierce and like a crazy wild animal.

The dragon leaned away from the castle, ready to fall into the air and flap them aloft into the night, when suddenly the dragon stopped as if it were chained to the floor.

The door had burst open and there was Dumbledore with his wand pointed right at the two of them! The dragon roared loud and long, but Dumbledore called, "Accio Harry Potter!"

The stranger on the dragon's neck flew through the air and into Dumbledore's arms. A second later the dragon was released from whatever bond it was in and it took flight.

Harry Potter was too weak to stand in Dumbledore's grasp, and he slid to his knees.

"I've got you, Harry," Dumbledore said clearly and with an assured strength. The Headmaster looked over at Sirius's shocked face and James's weakened one, and then the body of the unconscious werewolf. He looked back down at Harry Potter and smoothed his hair back to get a clear look at him.

"Thank you," Dumbledore said, "for saving them."

"You're welcome," Harry said weakly.

Sirius could only shake his head in confusion, and notice again how warm blood felt against his cold skin.


	17. Chapter 17

**This has been updated a little. There's only a little "suggestion" now~**

Harry hadn't been so clean in so long that it felt like someone stripped his skin off and left him bare for all to see. The gray and white striped hospital pants and shirt were soft and smooth…another very unusual feeling. It made him feel like he was floating on a slick surface and about to slide off at any second. He was so uncomfortable, grumpy, and edgy, that when the beautiful, young nurse Poppy Pomfrey finished with him, he about had her ready to die of a broken heart right then – all her sweet blushing and puckered lips had been ignored.

Harry was flattered – he was – but she was 50 years old to him, not late twenties. The matron of the hospital wrapped the last bandage around his shoulder, smoothed her fingertips over his skin for the last time, and finally stepped a comfortable distance away. He didn't blame her for feeling a little crush on him; she was very lovely, but he had one very other important thing on his mind: James was unconscious two beds away from his, and nothing in the world was as attention-grabbing as that.

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," Harry said when she wiped her hands clean.

"You're welcome, Mr. Potter. Anything I can do for you, just call for me – Poppy – okay?"

Harry looked up at her, which seemed to be too much for her to bear and she pressed her lips firmly to keep a giddy smile from forming and turned to leave his bedside; but her cheeks were as bright as her red hair.

He watched her walk away. She was very…old fashioned. Even in his day she seemed to be of the wrong time. He watched her hips as she walked and he wondered about her kiss, but then an ache formed in the pit of his stomach and he pictured something else entirely.

Harry looked again over at his father laying in bed.

_What would you think of me?_ Harry wondered bitterly.

"What happened on your trip, Harry?"

Harry jumped bad. He hadn't even heard Dumbledore walk up. Dumbledore tilted his head to the side. The great old man - with his gray and white beard and half-moon glasses – regarded him like a great painter regards his masterpiece. There was curiosity there…and hesitation.

"You were gone for two weeks," Dumbledore went on, coming over and sitting on the bed between Harry and James, looking over his shoulder at James, "what did you do in that time?"

Harry only looked back at Dumbledore when he turned away from James and looked at him. Harry's stomach was turning with indecision. He was afraid to tell Dumbledore anything – he knew it was too much for anyone to believe. But this…it was the difference between a lot of things.

Three days ago when he walked up to Hagrid's cabin and said hello, Dumbledore had come down and they'd all talked. But they talked about dragons and the war – and James and his friends – but Harry never did tell him much.

At the time it was too hard to, but now things were different.

"I killed someone I loved…is what happened," Harry said quietly, poking tenderly at his wounded shoulder in the sling.

Dumbledore lifted his chin a bit higher.

"You loved someone?" he asked, almost bewildered that it was possible. "And you killed them?"

Harry began to fume with anger, but he kept it bottled up as best he could. He balled his fists up though, and that didn't go past Dumbledore's attention.

"Who did you love?"

"A dragon," Harry said through his teeth, and his eyes were no longer looking at anything in this room. Harry was seeing all that happened before:

_Synwenty guarding the Horcruxes, crowding over them as if they were its eggs. The book…the locket …the cup…the ring. They were there and the dragon was in his way._

_That dragon was a sight for sore eyes. Its luscious black scales and that familiar face. Its eyes were no longer blind, and its growl no longer sounded like a purr, but this dragon had been his companion for three years during the worse part of his life. Now, though. Synwenty was living the story of its past…the story about how it had proudly guarded the Horcruxes during the First Wizarding War, and it was living the days when it loved – not hated – serving Lord Voldemort._

Harry knew he had been partially brainwashed to consider violence and darkness just life, but Synwenty was totally brainwashed into believing it. When Harry went out to talk to the dragon and try to get it to see things his way…Synwenty hadn't listened.

So Harry and Nhesher killed it.

"I killed the dragon that taught me Dracotongue! I was its friend for three years and I killed it!"

Dumbledore was aghast; he hadn't expected him to say that.

"Why did you kill it?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry stayed silent for some time, and finally he shook his head and when he talked his voice was low and even. "Because it wasn't the same. It was You Know Who's. It was on his side now. It changed. I couldn't do anything else to stop it trying to kill Nhesher and me."

Dumbledore committed that name to memory – it was the first time he'd heard the dragon's name. He wondered if this was its real name – if they had names for themselves – or if Harry had made it up. In fact, he hadn't ever thought of it before meeting Harry, but he never even considered dragons had their own language.

"Do you know what a horcrux is?" Harry asked Dumbledore.

Dumbledore shook his head once, narrowing his eyes. It wasn't that he didn't know what it was…he just hadn't wholly known if it was true…

"Are they real?" Dumbledore asked in amazement, and Harry nodded gravely. "Harry…you found the Dark Lord's horcruxes?"

Harry nodded again. "And I destroyed them," he said.

Dumbledore gasped for breath and was ready to let his eyes bulge out of his skull. He swiped his hand over his head and pulled off his large hat. A layer of sweat had appeared on his brow and he – still – couldn't find the words for his amazement.

"It's not enough, though," Harry told him, trying to mollify Dumbledore's troubled mind. "There are two more out there."

"Two! How many did you find already?!"

"Four," Harry said bluntly.

Dumbledore shook his head and then he shook his hat. "There isn't any chance that you _know_ where the other two are?"

Harry nodded. Dumbledore held a deep breath and looked on at him urgently.

"…Here at Hogwarts," he said.

Dumbledore clapped his hands and stood, now full to his wits end with energy.

"Where, Harry?!" He cried.

"I'll show you," Harry said, and he stood up.

He stood up, but he didn't move.

He stood up, but he stopped to look on at James.

Dumbledore came over and took his face in his hands, turning it towards him. Harry looked right into his exuberant eyes but without the same energy. Harry was remembering Synwenty…and he was remembering his whole life without his father and mother.

Dumbledore had so much pride in his voice when he spoke to Harry. "Do you realize what you have done for the Wizarding World?"

"Yes," Harry whispered, and he took himself away from a befuddled Dumbledore and he walked around the bed to James's side. With his back facing Dumbledore – who was now much more dismal than before – Harry leaned down to James's face. He stopped just a breath away.

"James?" Harry whispered so quietly. He moved that extra breath forward and he nuzzled James's check and hair. He spread his hand over the side of his face and kissed his temple hard. Tears leaked out of his eyes and dripped onto James's skin.

"Harry?" Dumbledore said, now at his side.

"I've never met him in my life, but I love him so much!" Harry closed his eyes and stayed there, so close to him for a moment.

"Do you know him, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, but surely he knew that Harry hadn't ever met him.

Harry shook his head and stayed right where he was. Dumbledore sighed and reached out; rubbing Harry's back gently, patting him softly.

"May I ask you something? Something about your family?"

Harry nodded in consent, although he wished he was just left alone with the warm, comfortable presence of his father.

"What sort of life did you have growing up with your aunt?"

Harry sniffed loudly and stood up. He kept his eyes downcast onto James's unconscious face.

"Just a normal life…but she hated my parents. She hated my dad, and she resented my mum because she was a witch."

"And what sort of life did –" Dumbledore took a deep breath and carried on saying, "– you have with You Know Who?"

Harry looked over at him now, new tears and now a great deal of withheld anger coming forward. "He had me locked in Gringotts as his prisoner for three years. He said I was made for him, so he kept me. But the worst part was…"

"He used you." Dumbledore finished for him.

Harry nodded, looking down at James but closing his eyes – unable to say the words while he looked at his father. "He is incapable of love, you know. He only wants power."

Harry looked up at Dumbledore and said, "He never kissed me. Not once. I'm glad."

"That is…the worse fate…"

But quite oddly, Harry shook his head.

"No," Harry said, licking his dry lips, "it's…my life – not fate. Has nothing to do with fate. It is the worst _life._ But if I can kill him, I would feel so much better."

Dumbledore stared intently at him. "We all would, Harry. But now, will you please take me to the horcrux that's in this castle?"

Harry nodded, but still he didn't move from James's side. He reached out and brushed the hair over his forehead.

"Harry…I know you keep saying you don't know him, but I can see that you do. Who is he to you?"

Harry licked his lips quickly again and closed his eyes. He imagined what it would be like if they were brothers…but James was too special to be such a thing. He was his father.

The best, really, Harry could think to say was, "He's my father's little brother."

Dumbledore sighed heavily, but didn't say anything.

Harry was glad he had this moment. He cherished it with all his heart.


	18. Chapter 18

**I was told, so I did: this chapter has been updated.**

Dumbledore was in this morning to talk to him. They were alone – Harry was in the next room showering – so James could finally ask about the man two beds over.

"That is a long story, James…" Dumbledore said.

"But you said it last night…His name is Harry Potter. I remember you saying that."

Dumbledore nodded sagely. "He is. That's his name."

"Who is he?!" he demanded.

Dumbledore sighed and looked off out the window. It was a blizzard out there, and the perfect example of just how James felt.

"He…is your nephew," Dumbledore said.

It didn't take long for James's bewilderment to open a strange sort of pit in his stomach, and pretty soon his blood pressure was rising.

"He's not!" James insisted, scoffing at the idea. Under James's shirt his hips were wrapped up tightly and his wounds were healing, so though he wanted to roll over and completely get Dumbledore out of his sight, he was still too sore to move.

"How could he be?" James continued to say. "Why didn't my parents tell me about him, then?!"

"I don't know the whole story – I don't think anyone alive today does."

His parents were a lot older than the average parents of students here at Hogwarts. They were rich, proper, and esteemed in their own circle of witches and wizards. James hadn't heard much about their youth…he hadn't heard nearly anything at all, apparently.

"If I have a brother, where is he now? What is his name?"

"Harry never told me his name, but…I don't believe he is still alive."

"Why not?" James asked, looking over at Dumbledore's downcast eyes now.

"Because…Harry said the Dark Lord had killed them when he was very young."

A cold settled onto James's shoulders. "Murdered?"

"Yes."

James didn't know what else to say, so Dumbledore kept talking.

"I don't know very much about him, but I have a feeling that what you see is what you get. I also think your first encounter with him may be the best way to show you about him. His abilities to survive…and about that white dragon of his."

Dumbledore smiled a little, thinking about that dragon.

"Where has it gone? Has the Ministry taken it away?"

Dumbledore shook his head and looked out the window. "No. The storm is keeping all communication at a standstill. It started up quite heavily after you four showed up during that astronomy lesson."

James narrowed his eyes at Dumbledore's quite meek expression just now, and he wondered if the old man hadn't had something to do with that.

Dumbledore said, "It's actually taken over the Owlary…ate quite a number of pets..."

James huffed somewhere between a laugh and a sneer. "Who on earth keeps a dragon like that?"

"One day I'll tell you what I know…or perhaps Harry will tell it to you."

James pursed his lips at that.

"I don't know if I like this. I don't even think I like him – he's scary," James added to clarify.

"He loves you, James," Dumbledore said, but James could hardly believe it. Dumbledore was adamant, though. "That is your brother's son. It is. And I believe that what you see as being scary is the result of surviving all the places he's lived…and all the people he's lived with."

"Places like what?"

"Places filled with darkness, which he somehow resisted. Let him have the chance to tell you himself, though. I would do him a disservice by telling you what little I know, when he could tell you much more."

James maintained being against that. "He doesn't know me. Why would he tell me anything at all?"

"Because he loves you! He has lived without someone to care for besides that dragon of his for three years! And now…suddenly there is you."

Dumbledore patted James's hand and stood up from his chair by James's side. "He didn't know about you before three days ago…but I told him we had a student here at Hogwarts named James Potter, and I asked him if it was possible that he still had family alive in the world."

"What did he say?" James whispered.

"I think he was surprised, but I think he was also happy. He asked a lot of questions about you and your friends."

"Why did you tell him?" James demanded then. "We might not even be related!"

"Alas, you are!" Dumbledore said with certainty. "Madam Pomfrey did me the honor of performing the spell, but it was clear that Harry has half of your family's blood in him; a direct relation to you. If he is not your son, then he is your brother's son."


	19. Chapter 19

**I did a major update to chapter 18…you might want to go back~**

Two beds over, Harry Potter was laying on his back, looking out the window across from them. His arm was in a sling across his chest, but he seemed to be ignoring whatever discomfort he felt and was just focused on the windows. Outside, a heavy snow storm was blowing, making the lanterns in the room the only light available. James hadn't looked at anything else all morning, and the stranger hadn't looked at anything else but the window at all. From the look of him, James had a feeling he was dangerous with or without a wand. There was just something…wild there, even though it was like looking in a walking, talking mirror. Only, this mirror was taller, stronger, broader, and more pensive than James ever was.

He might have been more handsome than he ever was, too – there was something soft about his face that James didn't have – but that beard kept him from it by blocking most of his features. It appeared that the beard didn't matter at all to Madam Pomfrey, though. She had been fretting over him all morning. James wished in so many ways that she would fret over him in that same way. Harry was nonchalant about it, like he didn't even notice her sweet smile and blush. James had been glaring over through the open curtains at the two of them, and when she saw him looking she went and closed them!

Harry Potter is here for one night – and he's got her hooked.

_Not fair,_ James thought to himself angrily.

Now, sitting here, just the two of them, James had gotten over it. He realized he had one thing Harry didn't have, and that was most of the girls in the school in his fan camp. Not to mention the Evans girl – who let him kiss her for the first time the other day. As that particular memory came to him he smiled.

_Go ahead and keep Pomfrey,_ James thought, _but don't you even think about taking Lily!_

Harry was in the same stripped hospital gown as James, and had been forced to clean up. Before James hadn't noticed it, but the guy's clothes were filthy with soot and mud…and blood. The threads were folded and tucked under his bed, leaving a pile of soot where they sat. But if he ever had a wand or any objects on his person, they had been confiscated. The nurse had told him she'd disposed of his clothes, and then she'd passed him over the red jewel that he'd found under the Whomping Willow. It was laying by his hip under the covers.

James hadn't said a word since Harry came back into the room half an hour ago. Dumbledore hadn't even stayed in the room to say hello after their conversation. It seemed weird that there wasn't anyone around. Harry was a stranger who had just flown in on a dragon with a werewolf in its mouth, an arrow nearly through his lung, and James just about dead from blood loss and two more arrows sticking out of him!

If they were alone together so they would start a conversation, James didn't know how to approach it. Harry didn't seem to want to talk, anyway. Whatever Dumbledore may have said about him, James didn't get the impression of any sort of love off of him. In fact, all James felt was cold and distance. If what you see is what you get, then James was getting a picture of the blizzard outside.

James was getting really uncomfortable with the whole then when he got a shock. Harry had suddenly said, "You're not going to talk to me?"

The man's voice was gruff, but gentle. He talked like something was hurting him, too.

James took a few deep breathes to get his nerves down and relax his tender back. He swallowed hard. Harry – for the first time – was looking at him.

"I don't know what to say to you," James said.

Harry took a moment before suddenly he rolled off the bed onto his feet. His pant legs rose to show off his legs up to his ankles, and James saw heavy pink scarring over the soles of those feet. He saw it only for a second, but the image burned in his mind as Harry walked over to him, stopping just inches from his bedside and looking down on him.

Harry seemed to tower. James was stuck here on his back – just too sore to sit up – and stiff with uncertainty. Harry's very shadowed face made him think of Dumbledore's words about him surviving many dark places, and he could see those places carved into his brow and into his flat green eyes. If there was love, still James could not see it.

"Do you like Madam Pomfrey?" Harry asked, out of the blue.

James raised his eyebrows and blinked a few times. He nodded. "She's alright."

Harry cocked his head to the side as if considering something else. "How bad are you feeling?"

"Not bad…not bad…"

Harry pursed his lips and nodded. His eyes trailed away from James's face and settled for the center of his chest. There was an awkward silence. Finally…

"So…" Harry said, swallowing hard, "she did a test between us, she told me…"

James wished Harry'd look anything different than indifferent right then; it bothered him.

"We're related," James said stiffly. "Apparently…But you're older than me…that's weird."

Harry just nodded, still not looking him in the face.

James hated this moment and wished there was someone else there than his long lost nephew. Then again…there really was something about Harry that made him…content. Like he was safe even though he knew the situation was awkward and bad.

"Where do you come from?" James asked.

Harry pursed his lips again and shook his head. James realized that wasn't what he wanted to talk about at all. Harry turned his green eyes onto him, hesitated, and then said quietly, "I wish I met you before today. I wish I grew up with you…and knew you."

It was James's turn to swallow hard, because in that moment his heart skipped a beat and he saw it in Harry's eyes – that love that Dumbledore said was there. It was there…it was just hidden deep, deep down. Harry's whole face softened and his eyes lit up brightly. Whatever shadow was over him had passed, and it looked like he wanted to reach out and touch him. James could already feel his fingers against his face.

"I do, too," James said roughly, nodding. "That would have been so much better than meeting like this."

Harry tried a small smile, but it didn't really come on too easily. His effort made James proud, though.

James finally thought of something to say, and he was quite exuberant about it. "You were great with that dragon! The way you kept it from attacking all of us, you know?"

Harry nodded in thanks, and his smile seemed to settle into something nice.

"Will you be staying here long?" James asked.

Harry shrugged. "I can't, really. Having a dragon land on Hogwarts doesn't go over too well with school boards. If it wasn't for this blizzard there'd be Ministry officials coming to get me."

James nodded.

"Besides that," Harry continued on, still lightheartedly, "there are some things I need to do that I can't do here at Hogwarts."

"Oh," James said, dropping his voice.

"Does that…disappoint you?"

It did, but James shook his head, no, anyway. Harry averted his eyes again.

"How did you know we were Animagus?" James asked after a moment. If he thought he'd get an answer, he was mistaken. Harry took another keen interest in the windows with the blizzard outside. James kept trying to think of something to say.

At last he remembered that jewel, and he reached next to his side and grabbed it.

"I found this outside yesterday," he said, passing it over.

Harry opened his hand and took it without thinking. James gave the red jewel over, and Harry clutched it, staring down at it with astonishment

To Harry, it was a bombshell to see the jewel he had brought back with him that fateful day not too long ago.

"You found it in the tree?" asked Harry with a chill to his voice.

"Yeah!" James said. "How did you know?"

Sudden fury coursed through Harry's veins and he gripped that jewel tightly. It was as if its shiny edges were glaring at him, like the laughing eyes of Lord Voldemort. The jewel represented such a horrible day in his life that he couldn't stop rage from coming front and center.

His face contorted with the shadow that had lifted from it earlier, and James flinched back from it. He didn't expect this reaction from him, and neither did he expect Harry to pull his arm back and give an almighty shout of anger, hurling the jewel at the wall across the room. James watched it strike the stone wall with the sound of a drum, and splatter into a thousand red pieces with the sound of chimes as they all littered over the floor.

"What's wrong with you?!" James shouted, finding the strength to push his self up.

Harry turned furiously away from James and shook his fist in thin air, growing something viciously in his throat. For some bewildering reason, hot white smoke seethed from his mouth and floated up.

"What's wrong with you?" He asked again, but not so angrily. He didn't understand it at all.

"I'm sorry…" Harry said finally.

"Sorry?" James asked, hesitatingly.

Harry turned back to James but still didn't look at him.

"For everything," he whispered, "for being the reason you're in here. For…" _for being the reason you ran downstairs to meet Lord Voldemort…_

"It's alright," James said, shrugging and looking away himself.

He was taken aback by Harry's mood swing, but at that moment James saw something happening around the shattered jewel, and it took the forefront of his attention away from Harry.

"Harry?" James asked quietly.

"Hmm?"

"What is happening over there?"

Harry, bewildered by the question, followed his hand over to where he was pointing. From each piece of the shattered gem was emanating slow wisps of red smoke. The two of them watched as the smoke converged over the pieces and swirled together, faster.

"What is it?" James asked.

"I don't know," he said agitated, tensing up as the wisps swirled up and down now.

The two of them looked on, but when the semi-opaque red wisps started spreading out as much as it was forming together, Harry became aghast.

"We should go!" He said in a rush.

Harry forewent any thought of his sore arm and he scooped James up close to his body. James gasped and yipped, and wrapped his arms tightly around Harry's neck for support. Harry ran them around the smoke and down the aisle to the door, not looking back. But James saw it – he saw it all; he saw the shape of a man forming from the red wisps of smoke.


	20. Chapter 20

Harry held James securely in his arms, so James had to be the one to pull the hospital door open. Harry was about to slip them through when he suddenly stopped. A dire feeling sunk his heart and he turned around into the room. There the red smoke was forming, compacting into a tidy man-shaped silhouette.

"Pomfrey! Pomfrey!" Harry bellowed into the room.

"Oh, no!" James said, realizing why Harry was so distraught.

The nurse rushed out of her office on the other side of the room, and she froze in place with a gasp when she saw the red shadow.

"Run!" Harry yelled to her, holding the door open with his body.

Madam Pomfrey moved stiffly around the widely dispersed smoke, bumping up against the beds as she did. When she'd cleared the nearest part around it and it was behind her, she took off running for Harry and James. She passed in front of them and Harry let the door close behind him.

"What is that thing?!" Pomfrey panted.

Harry didn't know, but if there was one thing he did know it was to get out while the getting was good. He trotted James down the hall towards the main staircases, Poppy right next to him and bellowing, "Help! Help!" as she ran to find Dumbledore or someone else.

It wasn't that he was uncomfortable holding James in his arms like this – it just felt very awkward. James held him around the neck tightly. His lower back had to be killing him being folded up like it was, but Harry wasn't going to put him down if that red body came out to them.

Harry stopped by the first staircase and turned around to look down the hall they'd come. Nothing seemed to be happening, but that didn't mean it wouldn't. All around them people were showing up. They came down stairs and they leaned over the banisters. There were no more than a dozen at first, but by the time Madam Pomfrey came running back with Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and a slew of students on their heels, the number had multiplied.

"Has anything happened yet?" Madam Pomfrey asked Harry and James.

They both shook their heads.

"Nothing's come out yet," Harry said, eyed dodging between Dumbledore, McGonagall, and the students behind them.

He felt exposed again, and gripped James tighter.

And then – though Harry knew it would happen eventually – he saw her…

She came up from the back of the group. Her bright red hair was pulled up, exposing pale skin with a few freckles, and bright green eyes. Her school robe was open and she had on a colorful sweater underneath that brightened up the red in her cheeks. Looking at her…Harry never thought he'd seen anything so beautiful. He was frozen and lost for words…like a statue carved to depict a great tragedy.

That moment felt private…like a moment that only he and Lily experienced and everyone else was left out.

But then Harry blinked, and the noise from everything came back again and there was everyone chattering on about what was happening. Harry looked at James and saw him staring at him, and a feeling like he'd been caught doing something wrong came to mind. James didn't look accusing, but he didn't look away.

"I'm going in to see what's happening!" Dumbledore told everyone, holding up his hands for their attention. "I want everyone to stay out of this hall!"

"Who is that?!" Someone in the room shouted.

Harry looked over in the direction they'd called but couldn't identify the person from all the faces looking at him. Even if Harry was twenty years old in his own year and hadn't been transported to 1977, he was sure this feeling of being outcast and not recognizing by anyone would be the same.

"Stay here. Keep an eye on them," Dumbledore quietly told McGonagall before he left down the hall. Whether he was talking about just Harry, or Harry and the rest of them, McGonagall looked right at him and seemed to be sure it was him who needed the extra eye.

Harry watched Dumbledore go up to the hospital doors and open one very slowly. An eerie red glow emanated from the room and over his pale beard. Everyone was hushed as he went in and closed the door.

Harry was ready to wait there until he came out, but James fidgeted in his arms.

"Can you put me down?" He asked.

Harry looked at him, then up at McGonagall. "Is there somewhere I can put him? He needs to lay down."

"Right this way…" she said inquisitively, indicating them to follow.

Harry had to walk right past Lily. He looked down on her over James's head and heard her gasp for seemingly no reason at all.

McGonagall took them just around a corridor to her office. As they went, from the crowd followed Sirius, Remus, and to Harry's great dislike – Peter Pettigrew. He kept his mouth shut, though, and his eyes averted from the small plump boy. Knowing he was there made his stomach churn and his wheels spin…Wormtail had died when his silver hand had chocked the life out of him when he had tried to save Harry. It was a strange sort of justice that kept Harry glad to this day that it'd happened.

But the child in the room now wasn't that man he knew, and Harry couldn't bring himself to rise to the anger and hatred he used to feel.

There was a couch in McGonagall's office that Harry gently put James down on. His right shoulder was left aching and he grasped it tightly as he stood up again. He sensed everyone behind him watching him, and he couldn't quite take it. Even James's eyes on him made his hands shake. So Harry kept his eyes averted and went over to the only window in the office, and he looked out at the dark white blizzard outside that caked the school in snow.

He wished he knew why this all was happening…why he was sent back to this year on purpose or if it was all just some horrible mistake. He couldn't know if it was all real or not, but if it all was real, then he had done his part to improve the future. Four horcruxes were destroyed; leaving just the diadem here at Hogwarts that Dumbledore said could wait until the morning – this morning. There was…one more…which could wait as well. But right at this moment, life felt like a lie. It felt like a cold, horrible lie.

"So…" said Professor McGonagall from behind him, "you're the dragon rider everyone is talking about?"

Harry pursed his lips and closed his eyes.

"What's wrong?" James asked, concerned.

Harry shook his head then, pressing it against the window pane. He heard footsteps come up next to him and looked over at last. It was Remus Lupin. And surely it was him, because he looked very similar to the scruffy man from Harry's past. Already Remus was the same height as him, but he'd get taller. His eyes were bright and nervous coming up to him.

"Sirius told me everything you did," Remus said quietly, clearly. "I just wanted to say…thanks."

Harry finally relaxed his mouth and his brow, which made his shadowy look lighter.

"You're welcome," he said quietly back to Remus. And then he said, "I know what it's like to have something else have control over you…but you are lucky…"

Remus pondered what he said, but couldn't make sense of it. Harry tilted his head back at the room, and clarified, "You have friends like James and Sirius to help you. Friends are the best thing someone like us could have."

Remus was startled. "Are you…? You're not…?"

Harry was sad to see Remus so young, knowing what he did about his future. He reached forward and cupped Remus's head and neck, smoothing his thumb over his cheek. This close to him and it being so close to the full moon, Harry could see the ring of yellow around Remus's eyes.

"No," Harry said to him a bit sadly. "I've got a different sort of curse in me."

Right then there was a sound by the door, and it opened to reveal Dumbledore.

"Everywhere you go something extraordinary seems to happen!" delighted Dumbledore, walking into the room with a bounce in his step and a huge grin spread over his face.


	21. Chapter 21

Harry was relieved to know that Dumbledore hadn't found something dangerous in the hospital room, but he held off telling him what it was, and asked he come and see for himself. Everyone else was left in McGonagall's office, while Harry and Dumbledore walked the hall through the gales of people and staff wondering what was going on.

"I believe you'll all know soon enough!" Dumbledore declared, "But for now, _Mr. Potter_ and I need to have a moment alone with it!"

Harry passed Lily once again, and couldn't take his eyes off her.

"Mr. Potter?" She asked and her voice was soft and sweet, full of curiosity.

Harry opened his mouth as if to speak, but he couldn't say a word. By the time he thought to even say hello he had walked past her and was heading down the hospital corridor. He kept his eyes behind him on her, until he walked into the Hospital Ward. Lily's friends were smiling and looking between her and him.

Dumbledore closed the door behind them, and all thoughts of Lily passed as he looked ahead at the figure of a man, who now had taken full form and wasn't red anymore. He was normal colors – dark bluish robes – brown sandals – leathery skin as if he'd spent too much time outside. He looked about forty years old, with a scraggly dark beard that went to his chest. The only unusual thing about him was that he was semi-opaque.

"So," Dumbledore said gaily, "you have brought us Merlin, the greatest wizard who ever lived!"

Harry took a deep breath and let it out. Dumbledore wasn't kidding, but Harry had no idea what this meant. This…this ghost was Merlin?

Harry walked up to the ghost, who was smiling at him. He was missing two teeth, had most of his wrinkles around its eyes, and his nose was quite large. Suddenly the ghost nodded in greeting and started talking, but he wasn't saying any words that Harry could understand.

"What's he saying?" Harry asked.

"It's an ancient language. Merlin – or Myrddin as he calls himself – is Welsh, born in the year 540. But he's speaking an early form of French. As it turns out, he and I have that language in common. _Oui, c'est lui,_" Dumbledore said, nodding.

_"Bonjour,"_ Harry said, which was perhaps the only French word he knew.

Dumbledore smiled and said, "He knows nothing about Sir Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, by the way."

"You asked him?" Harry asked incredulously, and Dumbledore looked sheepish.

Harry looked back at – Merlin – and continued, "What was his ghost doing in the jewel?"

Merlin suddenly grabbed his forehead as if he were in great pain. Harry jerked in surprise – he knew that sort of motion personally…it meant something was coming to mind that he had no control over. He watched the ghost rub his head as if a great headache, and then Merlin looked up at him and said something quickly in French.

Whatever he said, it sobered Dumbledore up quickly.

"You know it is legend that he was a prophet?"

"Yes, of course," Harry said – Merlin was a very popular topic of assignment here at this school.

Dumbledore looked at Harry, and Harry felt his heart begin to race.

"Well…he just told me that…you…" Dumbledore cleared his throat, looking very nervous now. He went on, "He said you will become the most terrible...and powerful…dark wizard…ever to live."


	22. Chapter 22

"Calm down, Harry!" Dumbledore declared, his voice raised but not yet yelling at the man before him.

_"The future is never clear!" _Merlin said in ancient French, although only Dumbledore could understand him.

"What's he saying now? What could he say that's even more farfetched?!" Harry demanded belligerently, as he'd been doing for the past ten minutes.

Harry denied so venomously from the start that he would ever be evil, though, that Dumbledore was beginning to think even he doubted it.

"He's trying to say that neither of us believes what he has seen to be the only truth!" Dumbledore said back, feeling charged to have an argument with such a hardheaded opponent.

"But you heard him – you know!" Harry said, squinting menacingly at the semi-opaque man. "He saw me surrounded by fire as all the students here at Hogwarts cried for their lives! You really think I believe that you don't believe in prophecies?"

"Please! Concentrate! You have to calm down!"

Dumbledore was trying to do what he could to force Harry's nerves to calm – and usually doing this sort of thing came so easily to an Occlumenist such as him. But Dumbledore had underestimated Harry's mind. There was strength about it he couldn't bypass. He never thought he'd meet someone so young with a mind like a brick wall.

Harry shook his whole body, as if trying to shake his stress out.

"Forget him! He's just a ghost! It could be anyone's ghost!" As Harry finished saying this, he slapped his hands onto the metal end of one of the beds and lifted it, slamming it back down with an almighty bang.

_"This boy is disturbed…" _Merlin said quietly, rubbing his head as more images plagued his mind. Such prolific seers were so often overwhelmed with incessant fortunetelling.

"Harry!" Dumbledore hollered, holding up his hands wide to get his attention to quiet down. Harry was breathing hard and shaking with nerves, but stopped pacing for a moment. "You are being impractical…Do not think I would believe him just because he says he's Merlin –"

"Then why do you believe him at all!" Harry interrupted.

And Dumbledore couldn't help it – he did believe what Merlin said…and Harry obviously knew it.

He always thought that there was a chance Harry was a dark wizard – if not now then in the future. Hearing it from this man who answered every question he posed and for all intensive purposes hadn't lied once about being Merlin…well, having someone like this tell him what he already feared brought home the problem. And that problem was what to believe Harry Potter was.

Dumbledore had seen this before. He'd seen normal, good people succumb to the darkness that only great power can offer. Harry was strong and powerful already…he'd survived three years being in Lord Voldemort's cage. But the one thing Dumbledore had never believed about the whole story was that there was no way someone could be in Voldemort's shadow without being inflicted with some sort of evil.

There was always the chance that the reason Harry survived intact…was because he had succumbed.

"Couldn't it be…that even you don't know what you're capable of?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry shook his head venomously and turned away. He ran his hands over his head and took a moment to think.

_"Have you told him this might not be true?"_ Merlin asked from nearby._ "I foresaw just for a moment his future. I would not stake money on my words. I have been wrong before."_

Dumbledore looked back at Harry, who had finally sorted out his thoughts. Still, though, he was adamant. "No! Don't even _think about it! _I'm not going to become evil! I've never given into him and I never will! _He murdered my parents!"_

"Don't be a fool, Harry…you can't leave the past behind so easily! You cannot just decide to be good or bad…sometimes it is out of our control!"

"No it's not! It's in my control! If I kill him – trust me – it will be in my control!"

"You're pulling a dragon around, young man – which actually might be easier for you than most – but you lived with him for three years…in that time, are you telling me he never once persuaded you to his beliefs?"

Harry shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut in absolute horror at what he was hearing.

"You have it wrong!" he said. "I didn't live with _him_ for three years! I lived with a dragon! Not him!"

Dumbledore took a deep, cooling breath.

"I'm at the end of my rope, here, Harry…" Dumbledore really was. Talking with him was like talking with a mimic.

Harry was showing more signs of frustration than him, though. He shouted just for the hell of it and was so bundled up with nerves he actually started smoking out of his mouth.

Merlin was most startled by that, although Dumbledore had come to expect it from him.

"What does it matter what happens to me in the future, anyway?! I won't live long enough to see it! I was never going to survive him, was I? If it came down to the two of us…"

Harry rubbed his hands over his face and sighed.

Dumbledore did believe he was right in thinking this way. Voldemort was very powerful – much too powerful for a twenty year old man, even one like Harry. Dumbledore took a step forward and said, "Don't feel that way, Harry…calm down. You won't be facing him alone if that time ever comes…"

Harry continued to say, "You're telling me to calm down? Why don't you calm down and give me some evidence that this is the fifteen-hundred year old ghost of Merlin, because you still haven't convinced me!"

Harry glared at Dumbledore, and he glared at the ghost standing behind him. He may not have been tangible, but Merlin seemed very uncomfortable with the atmosphere of the room.

Dumbledore held up his hands, asking for some calm as he next talked.

"Merlin prophesized his own death, and the very next year he died. But there is evidence that he grew to be ancient…many speculate that it was him, but others suggest it was whoever had the _staff of Merlin_ who owned his great power and knowledge."

Dumbledore glanced back at Merlin, and then continued. "All evidence of him disappeared around the year 980, after the staff got into the hands of Robert Von Lond."

_"The thief from Lond!"_ said Merlin, suddenly irritated to hear that name.

Dumbledore nodded to what he had said. "Robert Von Lond, a thief who stole the staff…a staff with what is written to have a very large and valuable red jewel on the end of it that held Merlin's power."

Dumbledore indicated the scattered remains of the red jewel Harry had thrown against the wall. He thought he had explained enough to Harry, because the young man was silent and still. Harry, however, appeared a little too silent and still, and when he at last met Dumbledore's eyes, Dumbledore felt within Harry a sense of dread.

Suddenly, he realized Harry's breathing had turned shallow, and his face was hardened with anxiety.

"What is it, Harry?"

"Power within the jewel?" asked Harry, closing his eyes and wiping a hand across his face. When it came away again, he said, "I don't believe it!"

"What?" Dumbledore asked urgently.

Harry whispered something, and then he whispered it louder.

"A horcrux…he's a horcrux…"

The ridiculousness of it – but then…

When Dumbledore just thought about it…it was probably true.

Where Dumbledore had stopped to consider, Harry took action. The dragon rider jumped forward and grabbed Dumbledore's arm, pulling him away and behind him, further from the ghost – the spirit. Dumbledore was so surprised by Harry's sudden change in demeanor that he felt the urge to reach for his wand.

"Get away from it!" Harry bellowed, glaring at Merlin murderously. "I know what something like him can do!"

"Harry!" Dumbledore tried to placate, but Harry pushed him further from the spirit until he was nearly across the room.

Merlin, meanwhile, was standing with a surprised look in the forest of red jewels by the wall.

"I don't care if you think I'm evil or not, what _he_ is – is evil itself!"

Dumbledore stopped them from moving further, but Harry's hands were still pressing against his shoulders. Harry looked Dumbledore in the eyes and everything to be read there was urgent.

"He'll try sucking the life out of you to become real again! That's what horcruxes do! They are nothing but evil!"

_"What's going on?"_ Merlin asked.

Dumbledore looked around Harry's head at the semi-opaque man.

_"You…said you were a part of that red jewel until it broke…Will you tell me the truth?"_ Dumbledore asked him, finally glad now that Harry had mollified and come to some sort of organized action – even if that action was to put himself within the way of the spirit and himself.

_"That is the truth!" _Merlin declared.

_"You didn't say what part of you was in that jewel…I want to know if that part was your soul."_

Merlin hesitated then, and that was all that Dumbledore needed to confirm.

"I believe you are right – that he is a horcrux," he told Harry. "I never would have thought…"

"Then we have to destroy it!" Harry yelled, turning to face Merlin, but Dumbledore grabbed his shoulder quickly.

"No, Harry!" and then he said in ancient French, _"He intends to destroy you!"_

Merlin perked up defensively right away, and Harry shrugged off Dumbledore's arm and looked at him.

"What are you doing? He needs to be destroyed!"

_"So you know what I am!" _He called into the room, grabbing both their attentions. _"Obviously the years have made wizards more intelligent…and fearful of such magic…so I will tell you this: yes, I am a broken part of my own soul. The jewel was part of my staff; as a living person I locked this part of myself in it. However! I did it at the bequeath of my apprentices! They made sure nothing could break the jewel so that my gift of Seeing would live on." _He indicated the pile of red jewels all around him. _"Now I ask you – before you have the chance to destroy me – how did you break this powerful jewel into so many pieces?!"_

Dumbledore took a deep breath and looked at Harry. There were still minor amounts of gray smoke coming from his mouth, but he was waiting for the translation of what Merlin had just said.

_"He threw it at the wall,"_ Dumbledore said hesitantly, knowing the answer.

Merlin shook his head. _"That couldn't be all! What powers does he possess that would allow him to break a horcrux with his bare hands?"_

Dumbledore considered that a very reasonable question. He looked at Harry, who was placated no longer.

"Dumbledore?!" He shouted.

"Harry…how did you destroy the other horcruxes?"

Harry was at his wit's end thanks to this new line of questioning. "What?"

Dumbledore looked between the two of them.

"How did you destroy the other horcruxes? They must have been powerful. How did you do it?"

"I lit them on fire!"

"Normal fire cannot destroy them…"

"I used Fiendfyre!" Harry declared. "What is this about? _What is he saying?"_

Dumbledore indicated the jewel. "He is saying that this jewel was a horcrux, and he says that it cannot be broken by someone's bare hands. It's…not normal to have powers like that."

"I didn't destroy it…" said Harry, eyes narrowed in mistrust as he glared back at Merlin. "But I will!"

And Harry then grabbed for Dumbledore's wand, but Dumbledore pushed him away and he stumbled back towards the center of the room.

Dumbledore said to Merlin, _"You do not know this –"_

"Will you stop talking to it?!" Harry declared venomously.

Dumbledore went on, _"– but this man is on a mission to destroy horcrux, and already has destroyed four."_

Merlin looked wide-eyed at Harry, and he rubbed a finger to his temple._ "For whom did they belong?"_

_"The dark wizard –"_

_" – who murdered his parents, yes…"_ Merlin said, rubbing his head further.

Dumbledore wasn't one to judge someone – ghost, human, or otherwise – on what they were feeling. If the spirit of Merlin rubbed his head in pain, then of course he was in pain.

_"His presence is…muddled. I see fire…only fire surrounding him…"_

_"Then what do you see of the Dark Lord?"_

Harry waited in the silence that followed with bated breath. At last, Dumbledore gave Harry his attention.

"I assure you, Harry, that this really is Merlin, and we won't be destroying –"

"Ridiculous!" Harry stormed and he tried again to go for Dumbledore's wand, but Dumbledore harshly grabbed his arm to stop him. Harry jerked his arm away, yelling, "It has to be destroyed!"

Right then to both Dumbledore and Harry's surprise, Harry went sliding across the room – flung onto one of the soft beds. The trip left him unfocused and disoriented.

_"This arrogant man!"_ angrily said Merlin to Dumbledore, stepping beyond the boundary of the red jewels now. Dumbledore took a step way, reaching for his wand. _"I broke a part of my soul for the benefit of my apprentices, and because he has the power to destroy them – he wishes to destroy even me?!"_

_"Yes, that appears to be how it is…" _Dumbledore said, trying to appease the spirit's mood.

_"I regretted accepting the offer to create this horcrux ever since it was suggested. It forced me to witness my own death – and I assure you that the majority of me passed on to the other world…leaving me here. My staff was passed through the hands of good people – my apprentices who mean so much to me – but then it was stolen! I lay dormant…locked away until now…only to be witnessed to this atrocious man!"_

_"He has so far shown to be brave and trustworthy,"_ Dumbledore defended.

_"He is surrounded by evil!"_

_"I admit…he gives me pause…." _Dumbledore said slowly, watching Harry get to his feet from off the bed. Harry stared between them silently and angrily._ "For the past three years he was…incarcerated by the darkest wizard of our age."_

_"Is this the Dark Lord? Lord Voldemort?"_ Merlin asked.

"Did he say Voldemort?" Harry asked suddenly.

Dumbledore nodded – to the both of them. Merlin wisely rubbed his temple.

_"I have foreseen his arrival. He is a great evil."_

_"Then you must have foreseen this young man here…" _Dumbledore didn't want to say Harry's name, or he'd know they were talking about him right here in front of him. Harry was looking between them with enough dislike as it was.

Merlin, to Dumbledore's surprise, shook his head.

_"It is very strange…I trust he will become the worst sort of evil ever to live…but I never saw it before! I see so much – even you, Dumbledore! But I have never heard of – him."_

Dumbledore sighed, feeling yet again like there was no end to the puzzle Harry Potter created. First with the dragons, then with Voldemort, then with James…it was limitless.

"Harry," he asked now, "I wonder…why did you take the jewel? Was it with a staff?"

Harry took a moment to get himself together before answering. "I found a staff in one of the vaults as I was escaping…I couldn't take the whole thing with me, but I thought I could use the jewel to throw at someone if I needed a diversion. I forgot it was in my pocket. Is he calling me a thief?" said Harry angrily now. "I have no need for jewels, you bastard!"

Dumbledore cleared his throat. He didn't feel a need to continue on with what Harry was saying. He asked Merlin, _"How did you make sure that nothing would destroy the jewel?"_

_"My apprentices did it. They told me only another horcrux could destroy it."_

And a moment later, both Merlin and Dumbledore looked at Harry and narrowed their eyes.

Harry glared right back at them.

Merlin rubbed his temples then, staring at Harry. _"…I can see it within him now…it's all becoming clearer…Believe me – I implore you – he is a horcrux. He is Lord Voldemort's horcrux!"_

Dumbledore took a deep breath and turned to Harry. Harry's face was stiff with patience and hate, and his fists were balled up tightly.

"Harry..."

"What?" Harry asked stubbornly.

Dumbledore swallowed hard and cleared his throat. "In reality…are you the Dark Lord's horcrux?"

And Dumbledore saw it in his eyes – sudden shock; sudden clarity of his thoughts. It was so easy to see now how many secrets he had been hiding.

"I…"

"Harry," Dumbledore said stepping forward and looking closer into his eyes. The truth was in there…hiding. "Do you know that's what you are?"

Harry swallowed hard, and nodded.

"I was going to tell you…" he whispered.

Dumbledore now wasn't feeling entirely like Harry was an ally. He was beginning to feel like inviting him into Hogwarts and supporting him on his quest to destroy Lord Voldemort may have been like helping the worse of two evils.


	23. Chapter 23

For now, it seemed like time was running out everywhere.

Harry was meant to be kept in the Hospital Ward, but he moved freely through the castle with a security of ghosts. They floated about just out of sight as Harry sat against a wall atop the Owlary tower with Nhesher nearby. The owls had flown to different parts of the castle since the dragon's arrival here – although not all of them made it. Nhesher had turned this area into a steaming pot of smoke and ashes. There was no trace of any bird feathers or droppings anywhere…which was nice. The dragon's body was folded into a tight package and its wings were tucked in tight to fit under the high roof.

Harry sat next to Nhesher's nostrils, leaning against one of the beast's large paws, and allowing the dragon's deep breaths to gust warmth over his body. He had changed back into his normal clothes – jacket, jeans, and boots – and was once again fully bathed in soot – how Nhesher liked him.

Dumbledore's contrived snow squall was calming down, meaning the Ministry officials from the School Board and the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures would be coming in soon. Aurors would of course be coming with them, and there was no way Harry could stay at the school without being taken into their custody.

All the pieces of the horcrux were gathered and put into Dumbledore's office. The spirit couldn't move past them more than two meters, so that bound him up. But the school knew about his presence. They all believed Harry had purposefully brought Merlin there – Dumbledore's idea, to which James and Sirius spread the news. The whole world knew there was a massive breakout from Gringotts…just up until now no one knew what had been taken. The cover, of course, was for Harry's benefit and could last forever…that is if Voldemort didn't say otherwise. And Harry had a feeling he wouldn't say otherwise.

The wild card in all of this was, of course, Voldemort.

Harry was his enemy…but not from this time. All it took was one conversation with the Dark Lord about him and it would be clear Harry was not a familiar person. What then, Harry couldn't guess. He knew – of course – that Voldemort didn't just chat with people, and that people didn't just come up to him and ask questions.

But if Voldemort found out that Harry had already told a version of events that weren't the truth about him, then Voldemort would be inclined to come and find out why that was. That…Harry couldn't let happen.

Harry could imagine it to take a day – maybe two – for Voldemort to realize his dragon keep had been plundered. This being the end of the forth day since then, word must have gotten out and should now be troubling the ranks of the Death Eaters. Dumbledore hadn't told him yet if the Order of the Phoenix was hearing any strange news, but then they hadn't talked since this morning – and it was nearing dinner time.

Dumbledore's words still stung and were forefront in his mind.

_Couldn't it be that even you don't know what you're capable of?_

Harry scoffed now, shaking his head venomously against the thought of being out of control with power. He watched Voldemort corrupt and force people to do terrible things just to live or to grow within his ranks. Harry could remember how their priorities changed from protecting their families, to survival, to greed.

Harry wasn't ever persuaded by Voldemort beliefs, because those beliefs were manic and horrible. He had yelled and he screamed against the evil of Voldemort within that cage in Gringotts, with only Synwenty to placate him. Now…it was as if Synwenty and that world from before were long buried, and he couldn't scream for it any longer. Harry never truly felt a part of it…he hadn't seen Ron and Hermione in three years – since they were seventeen. He hadn't touched another person…He hadn't listened to music or even learned the scores of the latest Quidditch games. Voldemort was a monster…he was a selfish, haunted, untrusting monster who didn't need any of these things to feel fulfilled.

Voldemort only needed more power and more control, and he sought it wherever he could. Harry was only a small part of the corruption he had created. The world was so divided it wasn't recognizable from the world he used to know. He didn't belong there…he didn't even want to go back there. In that world he was useless and helpless – at the whim of the Dark Lord. But here…despite it all…Harry had a chance to do real good.

He wasn't going to become evil. He loved this world too much.

But now…a part of him was afraid that he was wrong…and that Dumbledore and Merlin were right.

What if he did became the most terrible and powerful of all dark wizards ever to live?

For this reason, Harry sat here in the Owlary tower next to Nhesher. Far away from everyone at Hogwarts, he felt safe to dwell on the possibility that maybe he should stop right now, because what if he kept going and found a way to destroy Voldemort? That would leave room…that would leave room for a new leader…

Harry sighed heavily and leaned his head back against the Owlary wall. Right then, Nhesher's large ears twitched and the dragon lifted its head and looked at the only door down from this tower.

_"Humans come,"_ it muttered in its dragon growl.

Harry tipped his head to the side and looked on at the door. Nhesher's hearing was excellent, so he had to wait a minute before the door started to slowly open. The pace of the opening door made Harry's body tense, and his mind suddenly overflowed with scenarios.

Then, three small heads poked out. The faces of the three youths – probably first or second years only – looked on in awe at Harry and held very still. Harry also held very still, quite in awe himself from seeing such bravery in the children. They were here to get a look at him. Out of a dare or out of courage, they had come up the tower knowing full well there was a dragon here, yet they still came.

It was then that Nhesher twitched his ears again, and all three sets of the children's eyes looked to Harry's side and saw the great white dragon. They hadn't seen it among all the steam, ash, and snow that floated about the space. For whatever reason they had seen Harry in his dark clothes and stopped their search there. Now, though, one of them screamed and pulled back, and the others screamed and followed. They screamed the whole way down the stairs.

Harry didn't know if the feeling that rose in his chest was humor or horror. The children had known they were seen, and yet they didn't retreat. They were brave – brave in that way Harry had forgotten how to be.

Nhesher let off a great roar at the door that hurt Harry's ears.

_"Quiet!" _Harry grumbled back, rubbing his ears. _"They're just kids."_

_"They annoy me."_

Harry reached forward and patted the dragon's nose.

_"Are you always nasty?"_ he asked as he stretched out his legs for the first time in hours.

Nhesher didn't answer, but it also stretched. For a time the two of them tried to get more comfortable, but Harry couldn't. It was those kids…they'd upset him in a strange way.

Finally, Harry gave up and stood up.

_"Alarmed?"_ Nhesher asked.

_"No,"_ Harry soothed, charmed by the dragon's attention. _"I just have to go."_

_"Back to the humans?"_ it asked disapprovingly.

Harry turned back once he was at the door the kids had left partly open. He asked it, _"You do know that I am human?"_

Nhesher shook out its wings as best it could – a signal that it was bothered by what it heard but wasn't going to respond. Harry gave the dragon a shrewd look with narrowed eyes, and then closed the Owlary door behind him. He was hungry, dinner was soon, and he had to get cleaned up. The ghosts followed him the whole way.


	24. Chapter 24

Harry still knew the rules and the layout of Hogwarts well, and one perk of the bathrooms in the Hospital Ward was that they automatically dried someone after a shower. So when Harry took his clothes in next to him for a scrub, they were clean and dry when he was.

The last time he had gone into the Great Hall during a meal he had just run through the forest after an acromantula attack. He was jittery and blinded by the sudden addition of lights and smells, but this time, as Harry walked toward the doors of the Great Hall, he was accustomed to all of that. Just because he was accustomed to it, though, didn't make him immune to its effect.

People were still coming into the Great Hall as he showed up, but these children grew silent and stared at him as he walked past up to the doors. He didn't recognize any of them, but their badges displayed them to be Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. Harry could remember the days when he would come hurrying in to grab a bite near the end of any meal. He was always so busy in those days…so distracted. He had taken for granted so much.

One Gryffindor boy – a third or fourth year – held the door open for Harry. He was so small, comparatively, that Harry made sure he didn't accidently step on the kid's foot for fear of breaking any bones.

"Thanks," he said to him.

The boy nodded, grinned, and then ran around Harry to the Gryffindor table at the far end. Harry watched him go, using his motion to scan the full room. It wasn't an overwhelming sensation this time, but once again his presence brought about a sudden shift in the room, and everyone turned to each other in hushed whispers as they stared at him. Harry wanted to make out certain familiar faces, but they were all so crowded that he was getting dizzy.

He had shaved while he was showering. He hadn't been smooth faced in years, so this altercation along with all those eyes made him fret that perhaps he had made the wrong decision. He rubbed his chin and cheek, and wondered briefly if a wooden leg and a false eye would have made him of any more interest than he already was. Truly, though, he wouldn't be here if it wasn't for those three little kids from an hour ago. They reminded him of himself in some ways…of the reckless daring that used to seize him, and allow him to face down anything that moved. It certainly gave him the courage to face down Professor Snape all those times.

It was a courage he was now testing to see was still there. Going hunting for horcruxes came naturally to him, but socializing was something else.

Harry walked slowly towards the Head Table, where he saw Dumbledore motion for him to come. He took the route between the windows and the Slytherin table, and used this time to scan the people closest to him for his old professor.

His experiences at Hogwarts had faded from his mind over the years – as had so many faces – but when he saw Severus Snape he knew without a doubt that it was. He didn't remember what Snape looked like in that memory he'd seen all those years ago, but Snape at this age – at seventeen – was broad shouldered, still more long-limbed and wiry than anything, and pale; he was still a person kept in the dark too much. His hair was clean and shined, and his bangs landed casually along the side of his face, trying to cover dark eyes and a hooked nose but failing to.

Snape stared right back at him with his brow pinched…like he was looking at something very curious but not wholly appealing.

Snape had died in his arms. Harry remembered the blood cascading out of his neck and over his hands as he tried to quell it, and his face becoming white as a sheet. That look in his eyes remained with Harry…that look that begged for help, and yet knew it wasn't coming.

_Look at me,_ Snape had gasped – his final words before he died.

Harry's heart fluttered as he passed, and after he looked away from Snape he kept his eyes averted from anyone else. He reached the end table and turned towards Dumbledore. He reached out his hand across the table and Dumbledore shook it.

"Headmaster," Harry said very quietly, "I was hoping to join you for dinner."

"By all means, Harry. I did not know if you would come, but I had a seat by Hagrid set."

Harry nodded, although he felt his courage quake. Those three kids displayed more gusto going up that tower to see a dragon than he was right now. He swallowed hard and took his hand back.

"Also," Harry said, looking up and down the table at some familiar faces and some that weren't. "I'd like to know if my dragon could be given something to eat. I don't mind taking it up, if you haven't got anyone for that."

"That can be arranged," Dumbledore said agreeably.

Harry swallowed hard, wanted to say more, but then abruptly turned and went to take a seat near Hagrid. He sat down heavily and ran his hand through his hair.

He was right next to Hagrid, who was next to Flitwick. Beyond him were half a dozen teachers Harry didn't know, but a few he did, like McGonagall and Slughorn. They were on the other end of the table, though.

His hands were shaking knowing everyone was watching him.

"May I introduce Harry Potter?" said Dumbledore into the silence, and Harry should have known it was coming but it caught him at a strangely vulnerable moment. "He may be quite a familiar face for us. You could also know him to be James Potter's nephew."

The hall once again became a buzzing hive of sound. Next to him, Hagrid was delighted.

"Nice ta see yeh, Harry. Lookin' alright."

"You too, Hagrid," Harry said, rubbing his clean-shaven chin again.

Harry looked between Dumbledore – who was finished with his speech – and the student body, specifically the Gryffindors. Everyone was so much easier to see from this vantage point, and he saw James, Sirius, and Remus all together. He supposed they would have considered Peter Pettigrew as part of their group, but even though he sat next to Remus, Harry considered him outcast. Lily was sitting next to James and she was looking at him. Harry didn't know how to classify her, but her place next to James seemed very appropriate.

Snape was still looking at him, although from here Harry couldn't make out his black eyes.

Harry pulled forward a mug of something that smelled sweet and it wasn't until he tasted it that he remembered the familiar flavor of butterbeer. He licked his top lip and set the mug down, cradling it between his hands.

"So…" said Hagrid as lightly as he could, as it was obvious to him how nervous Harry was. "What's the story behind breaking into Gringotts?"

Harry looked at Hagrid sideways. "I wasn't breaking into it. I was breaking out of it."

"Oh! Right…thought that's what yeh said before…"

Hagrid went on eating, allowing Harry some time to get accustomed to his surroundings. It never quiet worked, and if from the start Harry felt nervous, now he was feeling downright painful just being here. The lights were too bright, the smells, flavors, and sounds were too potent, and above all he felt like he was going to be sick.

Worse…was the memory of Merlin saying he was surrounded by fire with all these kids screaming in terror around him.

He hadn't taken more than a few bites before he put his fork down and left it there.

"Yeh alright?" Hagrid asked.

Life suddenly felt like it was being lived underwater.

He heard Hagrid's voice, but the sound was muffled. Harry realized then that something really bad was happening to him. His whole body was shaking, everything was becoming hazing around him, and a black pit had opened up in his stomach and mind that didn't seem to have an end.

The worse part about it all was that Harry knew what this feeling meant.

He grabbed at his head and sent his chair tumbling over as he tried to escape it. It was useless, though, because it was too late. He screamed at the top of his lungs and shocked everyone in the room. Meanwhile, over the sound of his pain and terror, came the booming voice of Lord Voldemort from outside the castle grounds.

_"I know you were behind this, Albus Dumbledore! And I want you to hand over the man with the dragon RIGHT NOW!"_


	25. Chapter 25

**Sorry for the long wait everyone...it's the holidays~~**

He felt it for weeks now. It was a pulling in the back of his mind – like someone was standing behind him but if he looked no one was there. It wasn't a bad feeling, either. It was like a presence of someone trustworthy; someone who brought hope.

He would take a moment now and then to focus on the feelings the pull brought to him when it was particularly strong. The sun had never warmed his skin as much as this; the smell of food never tingled his nerves as greatly. If he was alone when the pull began, he would stop whatever he was doing and close his eyes. Lord Voldemort had never wished for such feelings before, but these feelings – for whatever reason they were here – he wished would stay forever.

He wondered why he felt that pull now, when he was so busy doing other things.

Those weeks ago when a mysterious thief stole Gringotts' dragon, Voldemort hadn't thought much about it. But now that same white dragon had been spotted on the border of his horcrux hideout with a rider on its neck. His sources told him that the same white dragon was here at Hogwarts, so here he had come…come to do something about it.

They'd been waiting an hour for the snow squall surrounding Hogwarts to settle enough for them to enter. It obviously was still strong – wind, sleet, small tornados of snow lifting off the ground. From where Voldemort and his thirty Death Eaters stood outside Hogwart's main gates, Hogwarts' lights were just visible. Of course, this was not a real storm – Voldemort recognized that though this was a feat not any ordinary wizard could accomplish, Dumbledore could.

Voldemort had come with one intention, so he couldn't let the feelings of longing that grew in his chest, and into what was left of his heart, keep growing; he was busy…busy attempting to kill the dragon and dragon rider.

But that dragon rider wasn't alone in this; couldn't be. The fact Dumbledore was using him – whoever he was – made Voldemort's blood boil.

He stood now with his Death Eaters all around him – but with a good deal of space between them and him for his own comfort. Voldemort pointed his wand at his own throat and loudened his voice.

"I know you were behind this, Albus Dumbledore! And I want you to hand over the man with the dragon RIGHT NOW!"

A twinge of pleasure passed through him as he knew he must have caused chaos within the school. If he could have entered the premises he would have, but Hogwarts' wards were too strong for that.

The real situation had begun, now, and though he wanted to hold onto the wonderful twanging feeling, it was too distracting. He pushed that pull away from him, and focused on what Dumbledore would do now.

…

Harry was on the floor with Hagrid leaning over him when he was freed from the connection. It was just like how it happened those thousands of times before: Voldemort would have him sucked into his mind, and then he would burst to life from it like a flailing child. The world around him would be the cage, and Voldemort's mind would be the terrible freedom from it.

Hagrid was leaning over him protectively when Harry emerged. The sight of the great half-giant's face above him was shocking; this world wasn't the cage he knew.

"Yeh okay?" Hagrid asked urgently.

Harry nodded, but couldn't speak. He turned his head to the side where all the noise was coming from, and saw the children of Hogwarts being ushered out of the Great Hall by teachers and the older students. The Great Hall doors were wide open, and Harry saw that also the Entrance Hall doors were open, allowing snow and the chilly wind to flow in. Lined up by that doorway was Dumbledore and many of the other teachers. Harry saw a fleeting glance of Severus Snape – looking back at him – before he left the Great Hall.

The Gryffindors would be without its Prefects, though, because James and Lily were kneeling by his side.

Harry wanted to call her his mother, and he wanted to call James his father, but he just couldn't; it would break the charade.

"Lily…James…" He muttered instead.

"He's okay!" Lily gasped, clutching James's arm.

James asked, "What happened to you?"

Harry was going to respond with a lie, but Dumbledore interrupted him with his booming voice, responding to Lord Voldemort.

"Leave this school now, Voldemort! You cannot have the man!"

Harry's heart suddenly jumped in his chest.

_"You're using him for disgraceful gains, Dumbledore! Could you not have done on your own what you ordered him to do?"_

Harry swallowed hard. Of course Voldemort would think Harry was Dumbledore's all along. But where Dumbledore thought he was Voldemort's…that's where the trouble was. Harry had to find a way to stop this. Voldemort couldn't have the chance to say anymore!

Harry was up like a bolt of lightning. He left James, Lily, and Hagrid kneeling on the floor, stumbled at first, and then ran as fast as he could through the final throng of students – past Snape – and up to the open doors facing the snow storm.

Dumbledore looked behind him just as Harry was coming up, and caught him by the shoulders to stop his rush.

"Out of my way!" Harry shouted.

Dumbledore couldn't speak or Voldemort would hear. He pushed Harry back, though, and Harry stumbled several steps away.

"He has powers I don't, Tom…" said Dumbledore, looking at Harry stumble evilly. "He has powers you don't, either! Whoever taught him…taught him well."

Harry looked all around at the teachers blocking his way. They were powerful and they'd protect the school to the end. He had to get out, though. Voldemort was here and Harry had so many defenses on his side…and Nhesher up above. But he didn't have a wand.

_"He needs to pay for what he did! Him and that dragon!" _Voldemort said.

Harry turned on his feet and saw James and Lily by the doors, and he ran back to them. In the corner of the room he saw some students still – older students. Sirius; Remus, and more…and Snape.

Harry reached them and held out his hands to James. "Give me your wand!"

James was perplexed by him, but Lily wasn't. She handed her wand over.

"What are you going to do?" She asked him.

"Kill him," Harry whispered, and he reached out and brushed her bangs aside, and then he felt her warm cheek. He'd been wanting to touch her, and how was his chance. He had never seen eyes quite like hers – what he saw in the mirror weren't the same as everyone said.

Behind him, Dumbledore said to Voldemort, "Even if he came out, do you really think you could kill him?"

Harry didn't know if he could kill him – really kill him, and not just turn him into a shadow of his formal self – but luckily there was someone with that sort of knowledge here. Slughorn had given young Tom Riddle the idea to break his soul to gain immortality, and though Harry never held it against the man, now he needed to know more.

Harry turned around and sought out the teacher next to Dumbledore.

"Slughorn!" Harry shouted, jogging back to them. "Is it possible to destroy Voldemort if only two of his horcruxes still exist?"

"Horcruxes?!" The potion teacher breathed in alarm.

_"Don't doubt my ability, Dumbledore! Send the dragon rider out, or face the consequences!" _Voldemort shouted wickedly.

Dumbledore shook his head, looking grim-faced at Harry.

Harry came up and said wildly, "Merlin's body and soul died with one horcrux left – _he_ might die with so many of his gone!"

The other teachers were in the dark as to what it all meant, but they followed the conversation with dire interest. They gripped their wands tightly – ready for anything.

Slughorn did as he had done when Harry needed medicine those weeks ago for Nhesher – he got right to the point. "How many are destroyed?

"Four already; is it possible he'll die with only two left?"

Slughorn was trembling minutely as he thought, but finally he could only shake his head with doubt.

Dumbledore gave up negotiations with Voldemort, considering now he needed to negotiate from within. He quieted his voice. "No, Harry!"

"Now's our chance to get him!" Harry declared, holding up Lily's wand in his fist.

Dumbledore grabbed Harry's arm with the wand and pulled it from him. Harry fought but couldn't get it back, and Dumbledore pushed him back into the room.

"You're not leaving, Harry!" And then he said the absolute worst thing he could to Harry. He said, "If you kill him now, you'll only fall into darker power! And if given the choice of having you or Lord Voldemort as the Dark Lord…I'd choose him!"

It was like someone poured ice cold water over his head. Harry very nearly lost all control.

He clawed at his face and screamed in fierce anger at Dumbledore – at the world.

_"I'm not evil!" _Harry screamed shrilly.

"Yes you are!" bellowed Dumbledore back. "The fact that you can't see it shows how darkly your spirit has become!"

Hot, dirty ash filled Harry's mouth, as it so often did when he lost control of his voice and started growling. He clutched at his stomach, because it was twisting in pain. His hands wanted to reach forward and shred whatever they came into contact with. He couldn't do anything, though. He couldn't run – Dumbledore would stop him; he couldn't beg – he'd be thought pitiful.

Harry did the only thing left to him to do, then. He looked up at the snow storm above everyone's heads, and he screamed with every ounce of himself into the night with a forty foot stream of red hot fire and ash emitting from his mouth. All the teachers in front of him took cover, and everyone behind him jumped in fright.

Harry's scream laced with dragon-speech reached the ears of his dragon watching the front gate from the tower.

_"Nhesher! Burn the humans!"_

Harry took a breath, ending the fire. He stood with his whole body sagging weakly, and there was a moment of silence.

And then the dragon's roar shook the very earth – wobbling window glass and reverberating through everyone's bodies. As it roared, a jet of fire spread across the sky at lightning speed, and in a second it was burning the front gate of Hogwarts.

Voldemort and the Death Eaters dispersed like ducks on a pond, but they weren't gone.

_"You're going to pay for that, dragon!" _Voldemort's voice was loaded with reproach.

Harry seethed and yelled back, "Bring it on!"

Dumbledore was in his way, but this time Harry wasn't going to be pushed back. With a running start, he brought his hand back and it collided into Dumbledore's jaw. As he kept running, he yelled, "That's for calling me evil!"

Dumbledore held his jaw, but like the rest of them, his eyes were dragged into the sky where Nhesher descended with its wings wide open.

Harry met the dragon by Hogwart's steps. Nhesher landed on four legs and with a smoking mouth. It looked into Hogwarts with glaring black eyes.

_"Burn them all?" _Nhesher asked Harry as Harry pulled himself up onto the dragon's neck.

_"Burn all the evil ones!" _Harry replied, and that was all Nhesher needed.

The great white dragon turned to face the burning gate, and it leapt into the air with a jet of flames already targeting a group of running Death Eaters…Death Eaters running onto Hogwart's grounds through the broken front gate.


	26. Chapter 26

Harry and his dragon soared through the white snowy night sky in peace. They'd been circling for an hour already, searching for any sign of disturbances. Harry held on and could only watch – wandless and useless – knowing Nhesher's fire would burn anything dead if they found danger.

There were three arrests and probably just as many escapes. They had obliterated Voldemort's force, and now was the aftermath.

The air was cold on his face and the snow pricked his skin like needles as it hit him. They were flying slowly, with the dragon's wings hardly beating. There was no moon, no stars, and no light save that from Hogwarts, but that didn't stop them finding ways to see – like shooting jets of fire around now and then. The storm was nearly settled.

They both wanted to go in or to leave the premises, but they had the same fears about doing either. Even landing posed its own risks. As Harry hunted for the horcruxes all those days ago, they had encountered this same situation several times. Nhesher would do its best to rest as they circled endlessly in the sky where no one could see, and Harry would guide the dragon by pulling on its horns to keep it from hitting into mountain sides.

They were both wide awake now looking for danger, although they were both getting quite uneasy about the choice to land and face Dumbledore and the Ministry, or take off and risk getting ambushed and killed, because Voldemort had escaped. After Dumbledore joined the party from the front, Aurors had appeared with the other Ministry officials and caught Voldemort's forces from behind. Harry had them from above and did the most damage. He was certain no more than a handful made it to freedom. Voldemort definitely had.

_"We should not leave," _Harry said solemnly to the dragon.

Nhesher responded by teetering its body left and right. Harry reached forward and patted the dragon's jaw.

_"I mean it. It's too dangerous –"_

Harry might have said more, but right then Dumbledore's voice sounded into the night from below.

"They won't arrest you, Harry!" Dumbledore said. "Come down; we need to talk…"

Nhesher growled, but Harry took a hold of its horns and steered it to Hogwart's Entrance Hall, where it had landed so perfectly just an hour ago. Looking at Hogwarts now, Harry saw the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw's tower lights on. The Owlary from this angle had a large section missing out of the side where Nhesher could fit its body into. The lights on the first floor were on and the doorway to the school was filled with Ministry and teachers alike. The dragon landed in the snow with an almighty crash and a roar. Some people inside screamed, and Harry rolled his eyes.

_"Quiet!"_ he said with sparks on his lips.

He slipped off the dragon's neck and took his time walking up, leaving Nhesher to pad around in the cold snow. His boots crunched loudly as he walked, and he rubbed his hands in front of his mouth, sending a thick cloud of hot steamy breath into the night behind him. He was cold and stiff, but the walk made him better.

When he got to the long steps that led up to the double doors, he stopped. Light spread out over him, and he looked up at the clutter of people. Their uniforms gave them away – there were Aurors, Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, the School Board, and within the hour about twenty Department of Magical Law Enforcement had showed up. Harry had to order Nhesher not to burn them as they walked up from Hogsmeade.

Dumbledore stood on the edge of the top step, looking down humorlessly at him. They were all quite humorless.

"I'm here," Harry said patiently, although he really wanted to run.

In the old days, with all these people around knowing exactly who he was and what he'd done for the Wizarding World, he'd have been given the benefit of the doubt – even pity. But now they were quite unyielding of their emotions. Harry was nervous.

"Oh, move aside!" declared someone from the back of the crowd loudly, pushing her way through.

Harry saw – of all people to see – Dolorous Umbridge jarring her way to him. She was so young – naturally so compared to how she used to be. She wore a large fluffy pink coat and her ears were behind muffs as purple as Ravenclaw's banner. She hurried down the steps and offered her hand right out to him.

"Harry Potter! Thank you for your services to this community!"

Harry took her hand none-so-much hesitantly now, and she beamed at him. He wanted to say something, but only nodded.

Umbridge held his hand still and turned to face the people behind her, although she said to him, "You deserve an Order of Merlin for this one! You might have just won us the war!"

Her words got the people out of their funk. Harry was looking up now at a clutter of very agreeable people. Umbridge pulled Harry up the stairs to them, and he shook quite a few hands. Always on his mind was Dumbledore, though. Dumbledore was standing off to the side rubbing his jaw, and not really joining in the celebration.

It couldn't last forever.

"He still needs to explain himself!" someone said, and when they stepped forward, Harry saw that it was Bartemius Crouch, Sr. He was head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Harry knew this…and he knew this very well.

"He can explain later!" Umbridge said – the first of Harry's fan club, apparently.

"He needs to explain a few things now!" Crouch said, walking up now and gaining the floor. "Like what this business is about Merlin! About how you broke into Gringotts! About why You Know Who wants to kill you! And about what to do about that dragon!"

Harry rubbed a cold hand through his hair. He knew what was coming. He looked everyone over and figured somewhere they'd have someone from the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. He looked behind him at the thing he cared about most. Nhesher's violent mouth was open and fuming with smoke, and it was watching them. Harry knew he was looking at a very tired dragon, but at one time in his life he would be seeing something much different.

He turned back and said to Crouch, "You better not be thinking about taking it away…"

He may have sounded aggressive about it, because this was no gentle matter to him.

"That dragon is not yours!" Crouch said stubbornly, gaining disapproving glances from many of the people around him.

"Neither is it yours!" Harry said loudly. "Gringotts kept it in chains for five years! They never let it out! You think taking it away from that place was wrong? _Keeping it there was wrong!"_

Someone else – a woman Harry didn't know – cleared her throat. She was from the School Board.

"You can't stay here with it, Mr. Potter!" she said. "Hogwarts – as Dumbledore well knows - does not provide sanctuary for anyone! This is a school for children! No place for a dragon!"

"You saw that storm!" A man in the crowd shouted above everyone. "That dragon couldn't fly through that!"

Still, she wasn't placated. "This dragon is dangerous! They're all wild beasts!"

Again, a stranger shouted, "And yet that _wild beast_ carried one of the students in its _mouth _and two others on its back all the way here – to safety!"

"YES!" Shouted Umbridge now, patting Harry on his arm and looking out at everyone around them. "He saved three students from those horrible centaurs! An award for services to this school!"

"Please stop…" Harry muttered to her.

There was a clattering of voices in the crowd as people talked among themselves. Their conversation looped around and around. Harry was feeling like no one was quite prepared to handle the aftermath of the battle after all.

He turned around to look at his dragon settling into the snow. No one was talking to him, so he let his mind wonder.

He wondered about his latest collapse. Flying up in the air, he had been so focused on finding any danger that he hadn't dwelt on anything else. Now, with an inner calm growing, he could finally think. He had found himself unafraid these past three weeks since coming through time in the old clock. He was mostly unafraid of the future now – his future or anyone's. He thought he might have it all figured out now; he wasn't hounded by Voldemort pulling him into his dark world, and he didn't have to worry about his friends being hunted…they weren't even born yet.

These past three weeks were like heaven, and he was sorry that image was now broken; Voldemort could pull him into his mind after all. But…it seemed as if he didn't want to…or as if he didn't understand that he could.

Harry was drifting so much that all the bodies around him had seemingly stepped away from him. He was standing with that wide berth around him and no one was facing him. Alone like this, he felt as safe as a precarious dragon egg under its massive mother.

"What are these horcruxes everyone is talking about?" someone asked clearly over the voices of everyone, and that brought Harry out of his reverie.

There was silence from the three in the crowd who knew the answer. Harry and Slughorn weren't about to explain, and Dumbledore was still too unhappy with Harry to come to his rescue. But as Harry stared at the old Headmaster, and as everyone stared at Harry, they came to realize that it would be Dumbledore to answer their question.

"Come on, Headmaster. All your teachers are talking about it…what are they?" that same person said.

Dumbledore finally took the initiative and explained it quickly. Everyone jumped in with questions – questions about Merlin, about Voldemort – but the main question was what it meant for the war.

Harry's head finally kicked in then, and he suddenly joined the conversation.

"It means no more dreaming of the day this war will end!" he shouted, and got them all to shut up to listen.

Harry stood rigidly and went on, more quietly. "It means…the future is safe once they're all destroyed. It means Voldemort will be mortal!" Many in the crowd flinched at the name, but Harry went on. "It means the children here at Hogwarts can grow up safely, have kids, and watch those kids grow…It means there won't be so many orphans!"

_Orphans like me._

Harry crossed his arms in front of him and looked at the snowy space between them all.

"He's got a point there!" said a familiar voice. Harry hadn't known how he had missed Mad Eye Moody in the crowd, but there he stood next to Dumbledore. "So, how do we find the remaining horcruxes?"

Dumbledore's eyes focused only on Harry, and he was as severe as Crouch and just as untrusting. Harry could feel his unyielding disapproval – it probably didn't help that he had punched him in the jaw.

"We don't need to find them," Harry said smoothly. "I already know where the last ones are."

"Here at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said at last, looking now at the woman so adamant to get Harry and the dragon to leave. "That's why I let him stay…he told me You Know Who had hid his last two horcruxes here."

"Just one, actually," Harry clarified, much to everyone's confusion, but not to Dumbledore's. Dumbledore knew now that Harry was one of them.

"If you know where they are, why haven't you destroyed them yet?" Someone demanded to know.

Dumbledore looked over the heads of everyone at the speaker. "Because, Mr. Weasley, we've been busy!"

Harry felt his stomach roll and his heart skip a beat. He arched his neck and stood on his toes to see past the people blocking him…and then he saw the tall, red-haired man. In fact…he saw two of them.

"Who are you?" Harry asked suddenly, and the two men seemed a little put off by the question.

"They are Aurors," Dumbledore told Harry.

"Gideon," one man said, and indicated his twin, "and Fabian, my brother."

Harry wiped his suddenly sweaty hands on his hips, staring at these two men who were Molly Weasley's brothers. She had named Fred and George after them…of course Fred and George – like Fabian and Gideon – had been murdered by Antonin Dolohov.

"Can you kill him after you destroy the two horcruxes?" The woman from the School Board asked.

Harry looked down at her, but he was lost for words.

"How is it you even know about them?" Crouch asked – ever the detective and ever against Harry.

Harry looked sideways at the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He took a few deep breaths – readying his self to speak after the surprise of seeing more ghosts from the past. He looked all around and saw that clearly he wasn't going to get any help from any of these people.

"When I was a baby," Harry stated none-too-loudly, "the Dark Lord came into our house…and he murdered my parents…and made me one of them."

There was shocked silent all around, and odd looks here and there.

It was Slughorn who talked first. "He made you one?"

He was quite literally shaking with fear. Harry could relate…he was starting to shake, too.

Umbridge moved away.

There was a clattering in the crowd again as people talked animatedly. Their conversation wasn't looping now, though; they were hounding each other for details – details that none but Harry, Dumbledore, and Slughorn could provide…and none of them seemed willing to provide them.

This was when Slughorn turned away with fear on his face. He was nearly gone into Hogwarts when Harry shouted, "No one blames you!"

Slughorn stopped and turned around, and everyone quieted down and looked at the nervous man. People chattered a bit, before Slughorn finally found his voice.

"Especially not me," Harry continued to say.

"You should blame me. You all should!" he looked now at Dumbledore, and made his confession. "Thirty years ago…I was the one who told the child that became You Know Who what horcruxes were!"

_"He started this?"_ Some ignorant person from the crowd asked.

There was some outrage that made Slughorn panic and look between them all. But Harry stepped forward again to Slughorn's defense. "You told him what _they_ were…but you didn't create them!"

Slughorn focused only Harry now. He seemed to need Harry's assurance.

"You have to forgive yourself, Horace; no one knew that young man would become the Dark Lord." Dumbledore said this, and Harry was glad to know the two of them agreed about one thing, at least.

Harry looked evilly around at everyone, and said to the doubters, "It's in the past! None of us can change what's in our pasts…"

Except Harry was a walking-talking contradiction of that.

Dumbledore was staring at Harry now. Harry could feel his uncertainty and his disappointment in him, and he hated it. He looked at Dumbledore and said, "I can't change what's in my past…but I don't have to become evil because of it."

"But you have a horcrux in you!" Mad Eye Moody said – always with Dumbledore.

"Not for long!" Harry declared, tightening his hands into fists and shaking his whole body with defiance.

"Why have you kept it for so long?" Fabian or Gideon asked.

Harry was surprised that he wasn't the one to answer this; it was Dumbledore, who said, "Because three years ago, the Dark Lord imprisoned him – stopping him from destroying them."

Harry nodded. "But now that I'm free…" he looked to Dumbledore and both their demeanors became even sturdier. "I am going to make sure he dies…like I nearly did when I was seventeen."

All around him, the thirty people from the Ministry, the dozen from Hogwarts, and even Harry himself, couldn't find a single thing more to say for quite some time.

Umbridge finally broke the silence. "How will you destroy the thing inside of you?"

Harry looked down on the small pink woman, feeling numb.

"By killing myself," he said solemnly.

She gasped – many did.

Harry looked at Dumbledore, and saw finally that he was showing something more than severity.

"You see why I won't ever become evil?" Harry asked. "I was never going to survive this long enough to."


	27. Chapter 27

Dumbledore allowed Harry and his dragon to stay at Hogwarts another night. The Ministry wanted him to destroy the final horcrux and then take him off the grounds, but Harry had a point about that: if they took him into their care, they'd never allow him to die.

Dumbledore couldn't deny that was a problem.

It was the morning after. Harry was alone with Dumbledore and Merlin in Dumbledore's office, and the morning paper was spread out over the desk, with the broken horcrux diadem atop the pages. Harry had found it that night and destroyed it, much to Dumbledore's relief.

It was front page news that 26 bodies of Death Eaters had been burned into dust without a trace of evidence to identify them. Right now, they were doing a search for missing persons, and if they came up with 26, obviously they would be identified.

They were talking about the future, now. Specifically, about Harry's future. Dumbledore said he'd be given an Order of Merlin First Class, like Dolores Umbridge had said. He'd be offered any position in the Ministry if he played his cards right, too. Harry humored him by not pointing out that he wouldn't be around to play the game.

Nhesher was by the lake with Hagrid, enjoying three sheep and a barrel whisky. Harry was looking out the window on them, and felt of all the people in the world. Nhesher was the only one who didn't hold against him the fact he had someone else's spirit attached within him.

"Somehow, I think you haven't fooled everyone as much as you might have hoped," Dumbledore said.

"I never expected this to work the way I had hoped," Harry said, not bothering to look behind him.

"If it did, would you still be committing suicide after breakfast?"

Harry didn't want to get into a raging match with Dumbledore again, but he wanted to shut him up about that, so he said, "Actually, I was thinking about doing it before breakfast."

Dumbledore looked on somberly at Harry, not appreciating the dark humor behind his words.

Did he think Harry was proud of his sacrifice? He was in a world with Lily and James and all the rest; he wanted to stay here. Of course he wanted to stay here…but he had a lifetime haunting him to finish this. His friends, Ron and Hermione, had given everything to continue his mission. He couldn't let them down now more than he could have let them down when he was seventeen and walked into the Dark Lord's lair to save their lives.

Harry pursed his lips and closed his eyes. "If I'm not going to be the one to land him the final blow… I'll make sure that at least it's possible."

"Harry," Dumbledore said sagely and Harry turned his head towards him with tired eyes. "Is it worth it to destroy You Know Who?"

In that moment, Harry's features softened still, and he whispered, "Everything is worth it to destroy him."

"Even letting this horcrux in you survive?"

Harry was frozen in indecision, and finally he said, "No."

"Harry!"

"NO!" Harry raged, turning to him fully now. "Every Horcrux must be destroyed! There are no miracles here…there is no use hoping for one."

Harry turned back to the window and tried to ignore Dumbledore talking in ancient French with the damnable horcrux, Merlin. Though the two of them talked quietly in a language he didn't understand, Harry got the feeling they were trying to help him, so he didn't interrupt.

"Harry," Dumbledore said at last. "You removed Merlin from the vessel he was housed in…"

"Don't say it," Harry warned, but to no avail.

"Of all the things to destroy a horcrux, another horcrux is one of them, and perhaps – as Merlin is a horcrux – he can do this."

Harry was shaking his head with new resolve. "I won't do it."

"Why?"

"Why?!" Harry demanded, storming away from the window and up to the two of them. "And risk him living? Harming anyone? No. I'll destroy him…and then I'll destroy myself."

"Harry! Let him try! If he doesn't succeed…if you die as an attempt to destroy the horcrux, then I swear that I will make sure he does not harm anyone." He took a step forward and met Harry in the center of the room. "But if you survive…you have to give him a chance. If he turns out to be harmful at any time in the future, I won't hesitate to destroy him myself."

Harry was shaking his head again.

"No!" Harry shouted, aghast to Dumbledore "It should be destroyed now, before it has a chance!"

"I am not deceiving you, Harry! I'll keep my word!"

Harry fumed, eyes firing daggers and his face pinched in hatred and disgust. "He's a horcrux! He should be destroyed. They should _only ever_ be destroyed! He'll just use Hogwarts to grow in power until he can walk freely!"

"Not all horcruxes are malicious, wouldn't you say?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry swiped his hands through his hair. "Yes, they are! Didn't you see how easily Voldemort took me over? He has _control_ over me because of it!"

"You have only known the Dark Lord's horcruxes…but I have come to know this one. I'm telling you, Harry: he's not what you think."

Harry felt a pit of blackness rising in his stomach. He wanted to reject it – reject the compromise and go straight for the kill…but if he was given the chance to live to actually see Voldemort's death, then he wasn't totally above not taking it. He wanted to see the end of this war and more of Lily and James.

"We're going to try this, Harry," Dumbledore said sternly, and he didn't give Harry a chance to vocalize his feelings of considering it himself, because right then, Dumbledore hit Harry with a spell.

Harry's legs were swept out from under him and he fell onto the soft rug of Dumbledore's office. He was unable to move, and the ghostly, semi-opaque horcrux named Merlin stepped up to him.

He asked something short in French, and Dumbledore nodded. "Yes…as we discussed…"

Harry's fears vocalized into an anguished scream as Merlin reached for him.

"Don't do this, Dumbledore! Not this!" Harry yelled shrilly. "Just let me die! _It's the way I want it to be!"_

Merlin hesitated, and even through his delirium of being controlled once again in his life, Harry saw sadness in the spirit's eyes, and knew that he wasn't fooling Dumbledore when he thought he could do this.

Dumbledore stepped back from the two of them – he saw what happened when the diadem-horcrux was destroyed, so he knew they needed room.

"I don't want to let you die without trying everything to let you live," Dumbledore said. "I'm sorry, Harry. I shouldn't have accused you of being so evil when all you want to do is help us."

"Let me go!" Harry screamed, staring wildly at Merlin's hands coming closer.

"Let's try this first!" Dumbledore said.

And then two ghostly hands sank _into_ him.

It wasn't like there was just the feeling of fire – Harry literally breathed it as the horcrux within him was pulled. He screamed in fear and pain as his soul was grabbed from within, and it consumed his mind. His body convulsed even with the Binding spell trying to hold him still. His vision turned black and there was a roaring in his ears as the horcrux was dislodged from his sprit and started to come up through him.

After all feeling in his body was quickly lost and his mind began to shut down, his last thought was that it hadn't worked.


	28. Chapter 28

In a dilapidated church vacated ten years before, Voldemort sat miserable and brooding on the throne. Outside, morning sunlight bathed the church, but it didn't enter the windows or the walls. This place was a sanctuary he rarely visited. He'd brought these Death Eaters here a few hours after leaving Hogwarts. They didn't have to come, but they knew they should.

He hadn't bothered to disarm them; they knew there was nothing they could do to stop his reprisal either way.

What drove Voldemort into silence now was that he had just seen the morning paper, and it published his failure; his defeat. It was a perfect plan he went there with: destroy the man who destroyed his horcruxes; but it didn't turn out that way.

In some cases he could try to stop the shame by killing all the witnesses, but now that wasn't possible. Where his enemy might be celebrating the win, Voldemort was counting his losses. It seemed like hope and men were slipping through his fingers like a liquid.

Dumbledore was right – that dragon rider was well trained, but it was dumb luck they had defeated him so easily; he hadn't expected the Aurors to come from behind. If he hadn't sent his Death Eaters in and stayed behind with just two, they'd all have died. And with four of his horcruxes destroyed, there might not have been anything left to come back with. It would have been the death of him.

He sat now with just seven Death Eaters in the pews – spread out like white-masked shadows. Two of them were covered in dragon ash like him, and the other five were wishing they arrived at the right time to die with the rest. They all knew he was deciding their fate, and though they pretended to be acceptable to his judgment, behind those white masks they were sweating. Voldemort could fell it – these men were driving him into madness with their mortality.

He was going to kill them last night, but he had wounds to deal with; the dragon had burnt his left leg badly. It was mostly healed now, but it stung. Now – this morning – the only thing keeping him from turning them into just another casualty to calm his nerves was his anger at the papers portraying the dragon rider as the hero. He wanted to capture that man, and he wanted to find out just where he came from…and who had taught him the magic to control that dragon.

Inner turmoil wasn't something Voldemort dealt with well. It often left him brooding and venomous. Honestly, he was looking out at the Death Eaters and just waiting for even a minuscule twitch from one of them; when he saw it, he was going to kill them all…and they probably knew it.

It was then – right then – that a twinge of pleasure started in his stomach and built up to his throat. He had avoided this feeling before the battle to keep a clear head, and hadn't felt it since. But now it was here again, and it was strong. He had no reason to push it down this time – it got  
his mind off current events. There was some time still before everyone would expect an answer to their fate, and so he left them to their fears and he relaxed in the comfortable wave that –

That grew.

That built inside of him until it frightened him.

He stood suddenly from his throne and all the Death Eaters around him turned their heads to him.

Voldemort stood silently, his black crooked wand in his right fist.

It was as if whatever it was that affected him was coming nearer. He could feel it – sense it. It caught his breath and held his gaze by the door.

A minute passed…nothing.

His Death Eaters were as still as statues.

In the split second that Voldemort was about to step forward to go and look outside, the wooden church door opened wide and let the light in. It glared through the dimly lit room like a beacon.

The Death Eaters turned to face the door and reached for their wands.

There stood the silhouette of a man, and even when the church door closed behind him and he came into color, Voldemort didn't recognize him. But the pull – that tug that came from deep within him – it was at its strongest right now.

Voldemort squinted, trying to see as best he could. The stranger had wild black hair mixed with snow. On his shoulders was more flakes of snow that soaked his jacket. He had nice features, yet he was stoic…oddly so.

The man stood by the door, wand held in his right hand, which was lax by his hip.

"Who are you?" Voldemort asked, voice rumbling into the din of his Death Eater's movements.

"My name is Harry Potter," said the stranger. His voice made the hair on Voldemort's arms raise. It was familiar to him…someone he knew.

Voldemort let the moment draw out as he waited for more, but nothing came. At last, he said, "Harry…do you know where you are?"

The man nodded.

"Do you know who I am?"

"Yes, Voldemort. Do you know who _I_ am?"

Voldemort held his breath. No – he wanted to know – but no, he didn't know right now.

For whatever reason, Voldemort was drawn to him, though. He believed they had met before, he just didn't know where or when.

"Come closer!" Voldemort ordered.

Harry didn't hesitate to come. His snow-coated boots thumped down the room to the throne that Voldemort stood before, leaving puddles. Voldemort watched his hand with the wand, and it was a familiar wand. He had an eye for these things – and this one particularly. Though he craved to know why this man was so familiar to him, he needed to let go of the dream and learn more about the present.

"Why do you carry Dumbledore's wand, Harry?" Voldemort asked.

"I needed one. He wasn't using it."

Harry slowed as he got closer, hesitated, and then walked up the steps halfway, standing below Voldemort. That wand… it was inches from him – within his grasp…but he knew it was unwise to reach for it.

Slowly, Voldemort raised his eyes from the wand that captured his attention, and to the face of the man. He was so familiar and so…attractive to him.

"Do you know what this is?" Harry said now, his voice as stoic as his features. Those light eyes of his stared steadily and emotionlessly. It was eerily similar to the look Voldemort saw in mirrors.

It was the Elder wand, of course; the most powerful wand in existence, but he didn't say that…he didn't want to talk about the wand.

"Dumbledore sent you?"

Harry shook his head. "Dumbledore's dead – at least I think he is; I didn't stop to check."

He didn't know if this was good news or not.

_"He has powers I don't, Tom…He has powers you don't, either! Whoever taught him…taught him well."_

Voldemort truthfully didn't want to believe it, but he had a feeling this was the dragon rider. He knew he should be more defensive than he was. He should have this man on the floor bleeding, but the idea of that left a sinking feeling in his chest. It felt wrong to attack – for whatever reason.

"Look around yourself," Voldemort said evenly, and so Harry turned his head and looked at one side of the room where three Death Eaters sat watching them. "You destroyed my army, Harry; this is what is left."

Harry looked around to the other side, and then looked back up with his vacant face.

"No I haven't," he said. "You have plenty more…admit it. I didn't destroy anything you will miss, so…" and now Harry reached forward and pressed his hand against Voldemort's chest.

It was as if a huge weight pressed against him, and he went down onto the throne. Harry stepped up the remainder of the stairs and stood above him, looking down. Voldemort was in a delirious state. This man…he was toxic.

"Why so miserable?" Harry asked, and he lifted first one knee, then the other, to straddle Voldemort. His left hand, when it cupped his face, was cold as ice.

"…My Death Eaters are dead…." said Voldemort, his voice barely audible.

Harry looked over his shoulder again and still wasn't impressed by what he saw. "Not all of them…"

"My favorites are."

Harry cocked his head, staring at him. "Let me be your new favorite, then."

He ran his fingers along the Dark Lord's temple and down his chin. It made Voldemort's breath catch in his throat, and he yelled into the room with what was left of his strength: "Leave us!"

Those five Death Eaters were all too willing to do that. The door slammed shut one final time, and then it was just the two of them in the silent church.

It was a dream…it had to be. His heart was beating as fast as legs running and Harry's body atop his burned where it touched. So…some part of him was warm, at least – his hand was like frost.

Voldemort caught Harry's right wrist to stop the madness taking over his mind even more, and he pulled up that sleeve to view the forearm underneath. He saw a long scar sliced over the skin…right where he wanted to put the Dark Mark.

"Go ahead," Harry said, leaning back and holding out the arm that still clutched the Elder wand.

Voldemort looked up into his green eyes and breathed heavily. "I would…but I can't trust you..."

Harry licked his lips and nodded without a trace of emotion. "Yes you can," he said. "Trust me, trust me."

He was still holding Harry's sleeve up but he hadn't moved otherwise, just stayed where he was, letting Harry press closer until those lips pressed to his neck. Voldemort released his arm and skirted his hand over the waistline of Harry's jacket, pushing his fingers under the fabric. Harry flowed over him like water; slow and smoothly, making his body melt.

He ran his hand down…down, down…and Voldemort didn't stop him. He spread his arms loosely over the handles of the throne and let him do as he would.

"Harry?" he asked.

Harry was opening his robe, but stopped and looked up under his lashes.

"Why do I feel this way about you?"

Harry's beautifully vacant face twitched with the echo of a smile. "We're the same. We both want the same things."

"What do we want?" asked Voldemort, just to hear his voice again.

Harry spread his hands over Voldemort's bare chest and leaned in to kiss over his empty heart.

"Someone to control," he whispered.

Voldemort took a deep breath and let Harry do as he would. Whatever carnage this led to, and whatever carnage led up to this, faded from his mind, and he was blissful for the first time in his life.

**I know…wtf? But that's why I have the next chapter up right now~**


	29. Chapter 29

James had his arms wrapped around Lily, and they were on one of Hogwart's many balconies with a dozen others, looking down at a procession. Ministry officers were trying to pull the great white dragon out from under the bridge over the Great Lake. The lake had frozen over, and the dragon had cramped itself below it in an alcove and wouldn't come out.

The day before, Harry had attacked it, grounding it, and so it crawled here.

"Why did this happen?" Lily asked bitterly. "What was Harry thinking?"

"He wasn't very stable, was he?" Sirius said from beside them, hugging himself for warmth against the cold day.

"Something was wrong with him…maybe the dragon tried to attack him first." Remus said in Harry's defense.

"I don't think that was it," James said, because he agreed with Sirius. Something was wrong with Harry…from the very beginning something was wrong with him.

Lily pushed out of James's arms and turned to look at him, very upset. "Don't tell me you think he _meant_ to hurt the dragon! You know he loves it!"

"How can someone love a dragon?" Peter scoffed, giggling behind his scarf which was pulled up to his eye line.

Remus looked down on him and said, "Maybe the same way someone could love a werewolf?"

Peter's laughter tittered out and he shrugged. Remus scowled.

James looked around at all his friend's uncertainty, and then he leaned over the banister and looked down at where the dragon was hidden.

"Maybe he needed the dragon to stay here…and it wouldn't."

"So he blasted a chunk of its wing apart?!" demanded Lily.

James sighed, wishing he hadn't said a thing. He wished also – for the thousandth time – that Harry would come back to the school already and explain it all to him. He had asked Dumbledore about it, but the man wasn't looking too great at the moment, and all he said was that Harry went to find the Dark Lord.

_You can't fight him alone, man_, James thought to himself.

Looking down, he saw Hagrid trying to get the Ministry officer's attention from the sidelines where they had banished him. Hagrid probably knew more at that dragon than they did; James had seen him patting the damn thing's nose, for crying out loud!

"What are we going to do?" Remus asked, leaning over next to James.

"You could fly down there," Sirius said obnoxiously. "Maybe it'll think you're your nephew and cuddle up next to you."

For his trouble, he got Lily's cold shoulder.

James shook his head. "I don't know what we're going to do, but when Harry gets back, he's going to want that dragon here and not off in some dragon reserve."

"Or dead," Remus said bluntly.

James pulled back from the edge and reached again for Lily, and she came into his arms quickly.

…

Three days after Harry disappeared, Sirius was sure it had something to do with that Merlin ghost Dumbledore kept locked up in his office. He was with the group of Ravenclaw girls he'd often hire to get him information. With the Christmas holiday coming up in a few days, this was his only chance to learn as much about Merlin as he could, so he'd need to really sell himself cheap.

"How long of a kiss?" he asked now, smiling sweetly down at Holly.

"For a complete history?" She asked, pondering that with a cute blush while Sirius played with the curls in her hair. "Five minutes…every day…until the holidays."

Sirius nodded, delightful. "Deal! And you, Anne?"

"The same!" she said. "Plus I want you to be my date to Hogsmeade on Valentine's Day!"

"What?!" Holly shrieked. "No! Be my date on Valentine's Day!"

Sirius pouted right along with Holly, saying, "Sorry. First come, first served."

Anne looked merrily at Holly, who scowled.

"What will Nancy want?" he asked them now.

"Don't know…" Annie said, "but probably something big; that boy from Hufflepuff dumped her this morning."

Sirius was truly shocked. "He didn't!"

Annie nodded knowingly. "He told her right in front of Professor Slughorn, too. I think it was his idea!"

"Slughorn's?" Sirius asked Holly.

"We think so," she said, still wiping angry tears from her eyes. "You know what he's like with those Slug Club kids…He never thought Nancy was good enough, so he was there for support in case he wouldn't do it."

"That's a shame…" Sirius said, then, "So, I was thinking just a general history of Merlin to start with…then we could go deeper into his apprentices…"

…

A week after Harry was gone, Lily was still consoling James about the dragon's relocation off school grounds. But these last few days, the morning and evening news was bothering her so much that it was starting to look like James would have to be consoling her soon. It was as if You Know Who was out for a vengeance since his defeat here at Hogwarts, and he wasn't holding back. His ranks seemed to be fully replenished, and there were more death and destruction now than ever.

The Ministry was circling the drain, too. There was unease throughout every department, and Dumbledore was constantly away from the school. Something was clearly happening to the Wizarding World, and they couldn't go on like this. This morning an article had come out about a new proposition to classify the blood purity of newborns. Lily was ready to scream.

…

Two weeks after seeing James Potter's nephew the night of the Dark Lord's attack, Severus was still seeing a ghost of those green eyes whenever he saw Potter. That look he'd been given in the Great Hall still haunted him. It was as if Harry was trying to tell him something, but he didn't quite catch what.

He had plenty of time to dwell on it now, too. The Christmas holiday was here, and he was one of the few students who were staying over at Hogwarts. It was always evident that staying over at Hogwarts didn't exactly speak of a nice home life…and Severus – as just about everyone knew thanks to James Potter's loud mouth – didn't have it very nice at all.

He was mulling over a picture he'd been doodling on a piece of parchment. It wasn't even close to how Harry looked, but the essence of him was there: wild dark hair…and that _look._ That look that made his heart beat fast and his temperature go up. This feeling was scary and new, and not something he'd want anyone to know about. He knew he'd have to burn this doodle soon, but for now he was content to stare at it for another hour.

…

Three weeks after the failed attempt to remove Harry's horcrux and the theft of the Elder wand – and his rescue by the phoenix tears that saved his life – Dumbledore finally had a plan to fix the mistake that was close to destroying the Wizarding World they knew.


	30. Chapter 30

When Harry walked into a room the temperature fell ten degrees. When Voldemort walked in…there was only relief that it wasn't Harry. Even Voldemort had to admit…his coveter was something else entirely. He was scary, disturbed, and had something very urgent to prove. He had the brains and the talent to back up his quest, too. If Voldemort had been that savvy when he was twenty, he wouldn't be fighting a war right now.

It had been three weeks since Harry's arrival, and now it was clear he had to go. There wasn't enough room for two Dark Lords…and this was Voldemort's show. He, however, had no chance of getting rid of Harry on his own. Harry was alluring and intoxicating just being nearby, and that sort of pull Voldemort felt towards him hadn't faded in the slightest. He would lose his mind just thinking about him, and that wouldn't do.

So…Harry had to go. It wasn't about what felt right; it was about what was necessary for the good of his plan. There was no pretending any longer that there was a way to work this out or to share power…that wasn't either their style, apparently.

Still, the only trouble was that Voldemort couldn't do it alone; Harry was too much to get rid of easily.

Thus, he was waiting for someone who could help.

He had been waiting for a good thirty minutes already, and was afraid his message hadn't been received. The snow-covered forest around him was swaying in a frosty breeze that chilled his bones. It was a powerful cold…one that – though impossible – felt like it was Harry's doing. If there was one thing Harry enjoyed, it was making everything as unnerving as possible.

He heard before he saw someone approaching. His heart pounded in his chest with fear that it was Harry – a testament of the fear he created these past three weeks. Yes, something definitely had to happen to stop Harry, because, of all the things the Dark Lord should be afraid of, a twenty year old shouldn't be one of them.

The Dark Lord's frightful feelings only calmed when he saw who it was. He held his hands lax by his sides, except his palms were facing out and his fingers were spread. He thought Dumbledore would like to see he wasn't armed.

"Are you alone?" Dumbledore asked defensively.

"Yes," he answered.

The Headmaster of Hogwarts moved forward another few steps, but stopped with ten feet between them. It would have been humorous…except for the fact that they were both in trouble.

The unusual situation warranted some sort of delay, and so Voldemort made small talk.

"You look well. The years have been good to you since last we met."

"Eight years," Dumbledore agreed. "It's been eight years."

"Too long!" But now, of course, small talk was over. "You got my message; I'm glad."

Dumbledore nodded sternly, looking about here and there for danger.

"I came alone," Voldemort said. "Do you really think I'd want Harry here?"

Dumbledore still appeared weary.

"He's not here," Voldemort declared.

"I've kept his name out of the papers so far, Voldemort."

"I know that; I'm rather grateful to you for it."

"Then you know if you kill me now, everyone will find out he's with you. He is…_with you_, isn't he?"

Very few knew the truth about him and Harry – those five Death Eaters knew, but they had been…promoted, and wouldn't be talking to anyone about it anytime soon.

"Yes," Voldemort told him. "He is."

There was a moment of silence between the two of them.

"Why have you called me here?" Dumbledore asked.

"To business, then…" he muttered, and said, "I want you to help me kill him."

Voldemort knew it would be a surprise to the old wizard, but he also knew the opportunity to kill him wouldn't be brushed aside. Dumbledore was a little hesitant to respond, and of course he wouldn't show Voldemort even the slightest hint of emotion – an Occlumenist such as him had those sorts of things under wraps.

"You do want him dead, don't you?" Voldemort asked.

Dumbledore nodded. "I want him stopped. I'm just not sure why it is you would want him dead; he's done so much for you…and he's…you know…"

The Dark Lord frowned deeply, and made his confession plain, "He's also out of control. Even for a sociopath like myself, I can see he's a grade above. He's lived too long underground; I don't think he can cut it up here with the living. He's a problem, Dumbledore! For the both of us."

There was this look he has…it's the only look he had besides the lustful expression when they had sex, or the feral expression he had when he created havoc. The Death Eater mask hid it most of the time, but that look was hostile and vacant and was something no one was used to. Voldemort had practiced that same look in a mirror as a child and he learned how it recreate it…but for Harry it was surely the face he wore naturally – if not the face he was born with.

But he was handsome. Oh, so beautiful. And he was his to bed and keep – control when he wanted. But the downside was that Harry could control him even if he didn't want it. He was trapped in Harry's mind sometimes, and that wasn't something he could continue doing.

Dumbledore looked him right in the eyes and asked, "What is it about him…that makes you like him so much?"

Voldemort smiled, although it wasn't something he did often so it felt quite unnatural.

"He's alluring. You met him – tell me you didn't see it. He was something special at first…"

Dumbledore seemed nonchalant about it. "If you like that sort of thing," he said.

Voldemort didn't appreciate his attitude, but he felt he had Dumbledore on his side about this, so he was satisfied.

"So, we have a deal?" He asked.

"Yes, Lord Voldemort. We have a deal. Harry must be stopped."

"Harry must be _killed," _Voldemort corrected.

Dumbledore didn't respond right away, but then he nodded in agreement.

"And you can do this for me?" Voldemort asked.

"If you can bring him to Hogwarts…yes, I can do it."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes, and wasn't too happy how confident Dumbledore seemed about it.

"What makes you so sure you can stop him?" He asked.

"I'm sure, Voldemort," Dumbledore said sternly.

Though he was a powerful Occlumenist, there was a hint of guilt floating around Dumbledore's head that just couldn't be missed.

"I'm still unsure if you can be trusted to do this," Voldemort said. "It will involve killing a young man – and I know how you don't like to do that."

"Call it my responsibility," Dumbledore said. "I need to set things right."

"Harry is your responsibility?" He mused.

"Yes…in a way. I failed him. I drove him to you."

"And now you are setting things right," Voldemort nodded, and then he smiled again. "Yes…in plenty of ways, I owe you for him – for sending him to me. He hasn't been a complete displeasure to have around, after all."

Dumbledore didn't appear at all pleased to be making this pact, but neither was Voldemort, really. Neither had any choice otherwise, though.


	31. Chapter 31

Three weeks ago, the Wizarding World thought the war was nearing an end, but now they believed just the opposite. In the beginning, Dumbledore figured only he needed to know Harry had a taste for blood superior even to Voldemort's. In these three weeks, Dumbledore hadn't a clue what to do. He had busied himself running around trying to keep more fear than necessary out of the papers and the minds of the people. He was nearing the end of his rope, though.

And then Voldemort had contacted him.

And then a plan formed.

He had considered Voldemort might turn against such a force as Harry, but even now that it happened he was still surprised. Now, the time had come and he had a chance to set things right.

Dumbledore looked down on today's newspaper in the middle of the table. The headline read: _Harry Potter still attempting to amend his mistake._ Thanks to him, they thought Harry was out trying to stop all of this. He had some in his Order hide the dragon securely away where no one would find it – a dragon reserve in Romania – and though they asked, he never told anyone where Harry had gone besides that he was hunting for horcruxes.

If they knew Harry was a Death Eater wreaking havoc and making people disappear, they wouldn't be so willing to help him when the time came.

All around the large table sat every member of the Order of the Phoenix, gathered for a meeting so Dumbledore might tell his plan. They needed to be in on it. He could try to fix this all by himself, but he knew it would turn out better with their help.

"Thank you for coming, everyone," he had opened with ten minutes ago. They were pleased then, but not so much now.

"I can't believe you've kept this to yourself for _three weeks!"_ Mad Eye said dismayed.

"Really…Harry is possessed?" Slughorn asked quietly. "By the horcrux within him?"

Dumbledore nodded.

Slughorn shook his head. "That young man grew up this way because of me."

No one commented – they were too occupied.

Dumbledore said, "I've told you what you all needed to know…now I need to know if you will stand with me. To make this work we need to stick together. Harry is more powerful than You Know Who, now. He has to be  
stopped."

"You should have told us!" Gideon said angrily, slamming his hand down onto the table. "We thought he was out looking for more horcruxes! That's what you said!"

Fabian said, "I didn't want him to kill himself, but if that was what it took…"

Dumbledore said, "He didn't choose this life, everyone. He just thought he didn't have any way out of it. He lived with great courage and had the best of intentions –"

"The best of intentions?" Mad Eye interrupted. "He's a Death Eater now!"

Fabian came to Harry's defense, "Only because his horcrux was shaken loose and took over his mind!"

"And whose fault was that?" Gideon demanded of his twin brother.

"Mine."

_"Mine!"_

Dumbledore and Slughorn looked at each other, and Dumbledore said, "I stopped him from killing himself. I didn't want him to die without trying everything first. I thought I could get the horcrux out…I didn't expect this to happen."

"How very noble of you," seethed Mad Eye, glaring at Dumbledore. "You really fucked it up this time, Dumbledore."

"I know that, Moody," Dumbledore said.

He didn't say how Harry had begged for it not to happen…he hoped if he helped Harry out of this mess that he might do him the one favor of not mentioning that.

"Why did you keep this from us?" Mad Eye asked.

Dumbledore sighed. "I was ashamed. Besides…there wasn't a way to fix this before, but now there is."

"And what way is that?"

"The Dark Lord has agreed to –"

The room burst to life as every man and woman jumped to action. They yelled, they questioned, but overall they looked on Dumbledore like he was a madman.

_"He approached me just hours ago!"_ Dumbledore yelled into the room, and they quieted to listen. "He said he couldn't kill Harry – that Harry was too powerful even for him!"

"His exact words?" Mad Eye asked angrily. "You're in a deal with You Know Who?!"

Dumbledore could barely keep his temper. He said, "I don't know when it will happen, but yes, it will happen. I agreed to it because it is possible! It never would have been possible without his support, though."

"So…" Mad Eye said, churning with unbridled emotions. "There are two Dark Lords now?"

_He's a problem, Dumbledore! For the both of us._

Dumbledore nodded. "In so many words."

The room was hush.

"The horcrux has control over Harry, but we can break that connection."

"Will it mean killing the man?" Fabian asked.

"I don't know," Dumbledore confessed. "I suspect there is that possibility."

Where Fabian was concerned for Harry's safety, Gideon was concerned for Dumbledore's sanity. "What were his exact words? What exactly did you agree to?"

Dumbledore recalled what Voldemort said quite clearly. "He said Harry was out of control. A grade above him. He said he locked Harry underground for too long and now he didn't know how to be with the living…"

"And did he lock him underground?" Someone in the crowd asked.

"Yes. Since he was seventeen, Harry has been his prisoner."

The room was a collective, and they all were angry they didn't know this and asked why it happened, but only he, Slughorn, and Hagrid knew of exactly what was happening during Harry's imprisonment in Gringotts, and Dumbledore wasn't about to go explaining about that.

"So he wouldn't destroy the horcrux," Dumbledore said. "So he wouldn't kill himself. So he wouldn't cause trouble. Take your pick! We never even knew he existed until he escaped, so this war might have lasted decades had he not."

"This war might have ended if he hadn't!" Gideon said adamantly, and got the ire of his brother.

"If You Know Who kills Harry, won't he destroy the last of his horcruxes?" asked a voice from the crowd.

Dumbledore at last slammed his hand on the table with a loud bang.

Yes!" he shouted, and he didn't understand it himself, but that's what it all meant. "But it must not matter anymore: Harry is a problem for him that he needs to get rid of!"

"Does he even know Harry is possessed with his horcrux?" Mad Eye asked.

"I don't know," Dumbledore said.

Again, the room was filled with puzzlement.

"Are you with me in this?" Dumbledore asked them all now. "I don't know when it will happen, but soon You Know Who will bring Harry to Hogwarts. We'll have to be ready for them."

"It's a trap!" Mad Eye stated, staring all around at them.

"Maybe," Dumbledore said, eyeing everyone also. At last he settled on Slughorn, who was quite ready to follow him, he sensed.

"Or maybe it's our turn for a trap," Slughorn said wisely.

Dumbledore touched his nose and smiled.

…

The horcrux ran quickly ahead of everyone, the Elder wand lighting the way. It ducked as it ran through the narrow corridor with the dusty floor. Behind it, a gale of Death Eaters followed in similar white masks.

Without hesitation, it reached the end of the pathway and pulled out a loose rock and pressed it into the knot above. It emerged from the Whomping Willow and stuck low to the snow-covered ground and ran fast for Hogwart's outer wall, stopping there and waiting for the thirty Death Eaters following it to line up also. They were all slim men and women so as to make the trip through the passageway quick.

It breathed steadily and as silent as the night's wind; it had no need for pesky things like nerves at any time, let alone a time like this. Voldemort's plan to capture Hogwarts in time to greet the students before they came back from the holiday was brilliant – even it could appreciate the beauty in the plan. It could imagine now: the students of Hogwarts in the palm of its hand. With power like that, there would be no need to keep Voldemort around; it would have everything it needed to control the next generation of wizards.

No one talked as they stood there behind it, waiting for the signal.

Voldemort was taking the inner route through the basement entrance in Hogsmeade that led to the one-eyed statue. If they heard fighting, it meant Voldemort met resistance. If they didn't, it meant the battle was won.

It wasn't worried either way.

Hogwarts was its.


	32. Chapter 32

Voldemort stepped out into the night, looking to the shadows that the light didn't reach. He waited there until, slowly, out walked thirty-one Death Eaters with his Harry in the lead.

"Is that it?" Harry asked him, his cool voice muffled by the mask.

"Dumbledore wasn't home," he said nonchalantly.

In the deepest reaches of him where Harry couldn't reach, Voldemort was seething.

_You said you would kill him, Dumbledore! Where are you for that?!_

Harry stood at the head of the Death Eaters for a moment, and then he slowly took off his mask. Voldemort looked down on that gorgeous face and felt minutely afraid – but what was new? He never stopped feeling like the toy of an angry child when he was around Harry. Their moments of pleasure were never as frequent as their moments of disagreement.

But then Harry's lips twitched in that way they did when he might have smiled if he was even a little more human, and Voldemort couldn't resist feeling glad he had pleased the young man.

Harry walked up the steps onto the landing, his boots crunching snow as he came.

"I wasn't expecting this," Harry said quietly – words meant only for him.

"What were you expecting?"

Harry thought about it for a moment, and then said, "…resistance."

Voldemort's spine tingled. He might have given into the allure of that man, but instead he turned around. Harry followed just behind him, and the thirty other Death Eaters followed after him.

Inside, they went into the Great Hall. In the twenty minutes since entering Hogwarts, Voldemort and his group had collected all staff and students here, and they fit onto half of one table. Around the edges of the room stood the forty men and woman Voldemort took with him. Harry's people gathered with them because there was no difference between the two.

Voldemort and Harry stood facing all the innocent people at the table. Voldemort knew some of the teachers – McGonagall for one – but none of the children were familiar. One boy stood out from the others, however. He was the oldest boy there; straight black hair, black eyes, and pale skin. He didn't put up a fight when he was brought here, and that was most intriguing. A potential Death Eater for sure.

"This is everyone?" Harry asked. "What about the house elves?"

Voldemort was still trying to make his mind up: was he willing to share Hogwarts, or was it time to get his Death Eaters to turn on Harry? With Harry gone, he would have the pleasure of his company…but also he wouldn't have to answer to him.

"Locked in the kitchen," he said at last, and then added, "Hogwarts is…ours."

Harry looked up at him stoically, and Voldemort looked down at him just the same.

Harry's face was vacant as ever – completely unreadable. Unnerving.

He asked, "Don't you mean…_mine?"_

…

The horcrux could sense then that Voldemort knew he had been caught.

Outside just now, it had seen in his mind the meeting with Dumbledore. It was faint – one of those secrets he tried to hide – but it knew Voldemort thought this would be the end of them.

He had staged this invasion to be a trap, but the mouse was smarter than the swiss.

…

_"Did you really think you would get away with this?!"_ Harry screamed.

"You left me no choice!" Voldemort yelled back.

Voldemort stepped back, wand held out, but with one swipe Harry had disarmed him. All the Death Eaters had their wands out, too, but they didn't dare to use them. They knew disobeying the Dark Lord's new right hand meant their punishment was in the hands of that right hand…and punishment was severe every time – for anything.

The staff and students of Hogwarts left their seats and moved quickly away from Harry and Voldemort. The Death Eaters had surrounded the whole place so they couldn't move past that circle, but all – about twenty – of them were glad to be a distance further.

"So you thought you would try to kill me?"

"Yes!"

"By making a deal with Dumbledore?!" Harry scoffed out a fake laugh – the same sort Voldemort himself used; the difference was that Harry's laugh sparked with fire on his lips, and smoke began to seep out of his mouth as he talked. "You're plan failed! Dumbledore isn't here!"

Voldemort was trembling with fear – Harry was out of control and with all his horcruxes destroyed, if Harry decided to kill him then he was doomed to death.

Harry's face was contorted with emotion for one of the very few times Voldemort had seen. He saw now how vile Harry could be. Those bright green eyes he was so fond of were losing their color and becoming something different.

Voldemort glared with his hands fisted by his sides.

"It wasn't supposed to turn out this way," he said evenly to his coveter.

Harry cocked his head to the side.

"Wouldn't it have been better if you just stayed with me?" he asked.

"Stayed with you?" Voldemort asked now, shaking his head. "Being with you is like living in hell."

"Hell?" Harry was furious, and now flame and smoke cascaded from his mouth. _"I live in hell, Voldemort! You put me here nineteen years ago!"_

...

The horcrux bowed its head and closed its eyes. It captured Voldemort suddenly in its mind, causing the Dark Lord's whole body to freeze like stone. There was no need for wands; this was personal.

The horcrux flipped its head up and it was as if the Dark Lord were sucked to it like a vacuum. He slid on his toes over to the horcrux, and there was nothing he could have done to stop. Just like all those times it took control when they had sex, this was no different. Voldemort was uselessly under its control, and it never got over how wonderful that feeling was. It was vengeance.

The horcrux looked up and reached forward, accepting him into its grasp and holding him at arm's length.

_"Release me!"_ Voldemort was choking by the invisible grip on his body that was tight around his throat, but his demand was strong.

_"When I am through with you, you will be going to the worse corner of hell imaginable!"_

Right then, the Death Eaters closest to the door turned and ran from the school, and were the example to half the other Death Eaters in the building who now did the same; those who weren't fortunate enough to be near to freedom piled into the back of the room behind the clutter of native Hogwarts staff and students.

The horcrux let them go; they wouldn't get far.

_"What are you talking about?!" _Voldemort gasped.

"I am your horcrux!" it yelled, glaring into its creator's frightened eyes.

Voldemort was lost for words and could only gape, but his denial was evident and – though founded – made it only angrier.

"You made me! You murdered Harry Potter's parents and put another part of your soul inside of him! Do you know what it has been like living in here? This boy _loves _and he _dreams_ and he _hopes!_ _Do you know how painful that is?! _FOR NINETEEN YEARS I'VE HAD TO LIVE WITH IT!"

Its hands touched Voldemort's face and it leaned forward toward the Dark Lord's horrified expression.

"But now _I'm_ in control," it whispered menacingly, and then it showed its teeth in a smile.

It brought Voldemort the rest of the way closer, and it kissed him with an open mouth – their first kiss. Its tongue reached in and toyed, wet and hungry.

Voldemort was returned the use of his body then, but his mouth was as if glued to the horcrux's. His hands curled like claws and dug into its shoulders, clawing at its jacket and scratching bloody gashes into its neck. The pain was nothing to the horcrux, though, and only brought forth a new power. Now, fire and blackness flowed from the horcrux's mouth into Voldemort's.

His scream was killed along with his body and soul. Smoke and ashes were all that remained seconds later of the once great Dark Lord Voldemort. The ashes collapsed to the floor like a billow of flour falling, mushrooming up and out, and feathering the horcrux's legs.

The horcrux's hands were still raised as if they still tenderly held the face of its enemy. Its lips closed, shutting off the slow leak of smoke from its throat. The horcrux lowered its hands and its eyes to the ashes scattered around. It reached out one booted foot and scraped a clean line through it, a line that looked to smile.

"Now there's just one of us," it said to the ashes.


	33. Chapter 33

The sound of voices woke him. At first he thought it was a dream, but when they grabbed him and pulled him out of bed he was shown the truth.

"He the only one?" grumbled one man.

"Two others down the hall; let's bring them up!"

Severus didn't see their faces until they were in the Common Room. They were Death Eaters – here at Hogwarts. The two twins they were tugging were yelling at first, but one of the masked men slapped them about and shut them up. Severus didn't struggle against them, so they didn't bother holding onto him. The Death Eater with the grumbling voice had his wand digging into his back, though, and so Severus moved on out into the hall.

He wasn't wearing shoes or a shirt so the chill went into his bones.

"What's your name?" grumbled the man.

"Severus Snape," Severus said evenly.

"Not scared, are you?" there was humor to his tone.

Severus kept his eyes ahead of him, following the lead Death Eater. He didn't say anything.

They were gathered into the Great Hall. He saw probably forty Death Eaters in all – twice as many as their people. They were coming from every direction, leading all the students who had stayed over the Christmas holiday. Professor McGonagall was already in the Great Hall with the Gryffindors, and she opened her arms to the Slytherin twins with the bloody noses. All the Gryffindors had bruises and scrapes.

Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, came in next, followed by four Hufflepuffs. Filch, the caretaker, came in next ahead of six Ravenclaws and was bleeding heavily from his leg. He carried a sobbing first year without complaint, though. The only other adult was McKinnon, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, who came in last and was holding Peeves the poltergeist, who wasn't moving.

"We've checked the whole school, Master! We couldn't find any others," said a loud woman to a man Severus hadn't seen before.

Severus laid eyes on Voldemort then. The Dark Lord had been standing to the side of the door to the Great Hall; Severus had walked right by him and hadn't known.

Voldemort wasn't looking at them, though. He moved out of the room and away. Severus looked down at everyone there, and he wondered if they would survive the night.

…

Harry's back was still turned from them as he stared down at the ashes of the Dark Lord.

Severus – like the rest who were there to see what happened – was sick with fright and disbelief. This was Harry Potter…the man who flew into Hogwarts on a dragon and defended the school from the Dark Lord. He was the doodle on the parchment under his pillow…he was the dream the Death Eaters had awakened him from just minutes before.

He wasn't supposed to be this. It didn't make any sense.

Harry finally left the ashes and turned around to face them, and Severus thought – even if Harry was this new monster – he couldn't deny the allure of the idea of standing next to him. From here, Severus could see the difference between the man he met before and this one…this one was just about devoid of emotion; his eyes weren't even as bright.

He found McGonagall first, who was standing at the front of the group when all the other teachers and staff were in the back between the Death Eaters and the children. Their wands had been left in their rooms, but Severus was sure they wouldn't be so stupid as to use them with the amount of Death Eaters here. Well…the amount of Death Eaters _left_ here.

"Professor McGonagall," Harry said coolly, "do you know when Dumbledore will get back?"

…

_I'm going to call an Order meeting, Minerva. The school is in danger and we need to bring in additional security. I won't be gone long. _

_What sort of danger, Dumbledore?_

_You're in charge until I get back._

_What sort of danger?_

…

"No, Potter," she said.

"No?"

If Severus had been asked any question by Harry, he would have done all he could to say the right thing. He never would have just said that; it could cost her life.

"He's stepped out."

"Why do I get the feeling you're not telling me everything?" Harry asked, coming closer.

A chill ran up Severus's arms as Harry moved. The scratch marks from the Dark Lord's failed attempt to save his own life bled down under Harry's used jacket. He didn't seem to even be aware of it. And now Severus could see why Harry's eyes weren't as bright: they were dark with a hint of red around their edges. His mouth still smoked a little, too; he brought over a smell of ashes and soot.

McGonagall must have decided being brief wasn't good for her health, because she clarified, "He stepped out to go to a meeting. He thought the school was in danger…he wanted to find it additional security…"

Harry nodded in satisfaction and stopped his walk forward by a few meters. He wasn't holding his wand, but the end of it was visible from his pocket.

Some of the kids started crying again. Severus felt a little hand reach into his and grip his fingers tight; he held whoever's hand it was right back, but he didn't look away from Harry and McGonagall.

"What are you planning to do with us?" She asked.

"Nothing yet…we need to wait for everyone else to come back, don't we? So tomorrow night…you'll find out."

McGonagall said urgently, "When last you were here, you said you wanted the children here at Hogwarts to grow up safely –"

_"I didn't say that!"_ Harry seethed, stomping up to her and getting into her face, smoke billowed onto McGonagall's chest as he yelled: _"This stupid boy whose body I've been banished into said it!"_

It was either true strength or fear rendering her immobile, but she didn't back down an inch. She stared into Harry's red-green eyes, and said shakily, "I understand…you aren't Harry Potter…you are the Dark Lord."

"Yessss!" Harry hissed, bearing his teeth in a grin and stepping back, opening his arms to encompass them all into this revelation. "I am! And finally I have control and an army to do what _that_ Lord Voldemort couldn't!"

Severus's hand holding the little kid's started to shake. He understood it now, too. Harry was possessed. Like what obviously had overtaken him the night he defended Hogwarts had finally overtaken him completely. Severus was afraid for him then, but he didn't think this was the reason he had started screaming so terribly.

He looked over his shoulder at the Death Eaters, and what he saw was a group of terrified people like his self – the only difference being that they were hiding behind white masks. They were crowded together and motionless, looking forward and daring not to move. Severus looked back at Harry and wanted very badly for help to come soon.

"Harry Potter was meant to receive an Order of Merlin in a few days," McGonagall said feebly.

Harry dropped his hands.

"Please tell me, how is he going to receive an Order of Merlin – if – he's – not – _here?"_

There was stillness in the atmosphere as that sank in.

"How –"

"Professor McGonagall –" Harry interrupted with a raised hand and a coy smile. "– are you trying to stall me with all of these questions?"

She didn't speak, so Severus assumed that's what she was doing. Harry looked away from her and to the door, and he walked away, saying, "I feel sorry for you, McGonagall."

"Why?" she asked feebly.

"Because now that I see your motives, you won't get to see what will happen tomorrow!" he called.

Panic flared in Severus's chest. He looked behind him over the heads of the children and he saw the Death Eaters begin to raise their wands. McGonagall gasped in fear and rushed to get the students near her behind her back.

Severus didn't know what he was doing, but he did what he could anyway.

"WAIT!" he yelled to Harry's retreating back.

Harry had nearly left the Great Hall, but he stopped now and looked back. Severus let go of the child's hand and held up his palms, one towards the Death Eaters and one towards Harry. He stepped away from the others and out into the open.

"Severus Snape," Harry said, and quickly he came back into the room.

Having this monster that possessed Harry set itsattention on him made his knees shake. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He wanted to say something before Harry got too close, but too late. They were almost the same height, Severus noticed, but Harry was just a fraction taller.

"I'm waiting," Harry said, looking almost bashful.

Severus blushed. Harry's coy smile came back.

"Let me guess," Harry said, "you want her to live?"

Severus nodded. His heart raced. He wanted her to live, so anything to let her survive would do. That worried look Harry had given him in this very room three weeks ago wasn't even hinted to be there. This definitely wasn't the man he'd seen before.

"And you want to live, too?"

Severus nodded faster.

Harry looked over Severus's shoulder to McGonagall. When he looked away, Severus glanced down at the wand that was sticking out of Harry's pocket.

It was just a few inches away…

He looked up just before Harry looked back at him, and did what he could to quell the traitorous thoughts in his mind.

"Okay, Snape…" Harry muttered, and Severus's mouth fell open in shock. Harry tilted his head to the side. "What? Surprised?"

Severus nodded. Behind him, he knew McGonagall was probably near a heart attack.

"I like you," Harry said, reaching up and resting his hands on Severus's shoulders. Severus's body felt weak under him, but his fingers twitched towards the wand nonetheless. "You're a survivor. I'm making a note of that, Snape; you're on my good list…I'm not even angry you're considering going after my wand right now."

There it was. He was found out. His father, Mr. Snape, had also been just as perceptive about his intentions. But the one thing that always caught his father off guard and allowed Severus to run from the house before any real damage could be done to his skin – was doing the surprise anyway.

"Oh –" Severus said in fear, his heart bubbling like a hot potion.

He went for it.

He slammed his forehead into Harry's nose and grabbed for the wand.

The surprise attack – it never failed.

Harry went flying twenty feet away because of Severus's spell.


	34. Chapter 34

It landed on its arm first, twisting those bones and breaking many of them instantly. It next hit its head and opened an oozing gash right on its forehead. The rest of its body caught up with it in the tumble. Immediately upon settling over the floor, the horcrux heard a fierce – although brief – battle. It hadn't even registered all the blood on its face before the fight was over.

It looked up and saw Snape facing a room full of downed Death Eaters. There was a look of utter shock on his face that would have been amusing if this was a joke, but it was the Elder wand. Snape wouldn't know the first thing about the great power that wand held, and yet now he was its master! The horcrux was furious.

Snape was glancing all around – at the children huddling on the floor, at the teachers who crouched around them, and then finally his eyes landed on the horcrux looking evilly at him.

It could sense Snape's mind, and it sensed fear. Worse off all, though, it sensed his relief; he thought he won.

It was cumbersome to find its footing again, and it might have been painful but the pain wasn't connecting; it felt nothing but what it imagined, and now it imagined nothing less than to rip Snape's throat out.

It slapped the floor with its good hand and seethed behind clenched teeth, _"Get over here, Snape!"_

And there it was: no more relief. There was only panic now.

Snape glanced at the huddling children and teachers, and then he started moving backwards towards the door. He held out an open hand to them and ordered, "Stay there!"

The horcrux didn't look twice at the fearful children and teachers; it was just trying to get onto two steady feet. At last it did, and it didn't hesitate to sprint.

Snape turned and ran.

…

Well, thought Severs, as he crossed the threshold out of the Great Hall and turned into the castle headed toward the stairs leading up, he had just ended the siege on Hogwarts, but now he had the man who killed the Dark Lord on his tail.

Severus thought he had been very noble considering how frightened and angry he felt at seeing the person he had a crush on turn into this monster. Even being reduced to running for dear life in the hope of not ending up like Lord Voldemort wasn't as horrible as the memory of blasting those Death Eaters into – at best – unconsciousness.

Severus knew if he ran outside he would be dead. The doors were open; who knew if the Death Eaters who ran from the room before were out there. So he took the stairs.

"Snape! You can't escape!" Harry bellowed behind him.

Severus was nearly to the top when Harry started up. Severus turned at last and fired down at him, but Harry was fast enough and jumped to the side of it.

It was just like what had happened when he took out thirty Death Eaters moments before – the spell he used flowed effortlessly off the wand and was extraordinarily powerful. It blew apart the whole center of the stairs; Harry was left to run along the edge against the wall, and for the brief moment he got a look at Harry, he saw the blood that was dripping from his forehead before had now flowed down to his chin and was dropping off.

He could easily kill without intending to with a wand like this. Severus especially didn't want to kill Harry, so he just kept running away as fast as he could. He took to the nearest hall, but Harry's sprinting steps behind him were closing the distance. There were doors just up ahead – doors to the Hospital Ward – so he skidded in a turn and burst through them.

There was no use contemplating the fact he had just run himself into a corner, because so long as Harry was away from the children he had done what he intended to when he first ran off. It was that little kid holding his hand – no – no – it wasn't that kid. It was Harry Potter who made him do it. It was, because Harry – the man who looked at him like he had something to say – was suddenly broken. What broke him must have been powerful, because the stories about him were as wild as the truth. Harry wouldn't have let just anything take over his mind any more than Severus would have done nothing to try to help Professor McGonagall. If there could have just been any other way…

Seconds into entering the room, Severus dove between two of the beds and clambered into the space between the nightstands. Now that he wasn't running, he could feel his whole body jittering. He huffed heavily and was covered in sweat. Even holding his new powerful wand tightly didn't stop him being afraid.

Not a second later, Harry came in. Severus held his breath and pressed hard against the wall at his back. He didn't want to die.

"You ran from me, Snape…Do you think that doesn't have consequences? Do you think that was my only wand?"

Severus sighed inwardly and squeezed his eyes shut. If Harry came within sight then he'd have no choice but to defend his self – or die.

He heard Harry's big boots coming slowly down the aisle. Severus couldn't have tried moving if he wanted to; he was too afraid.

"Tick-tock…you have seconds to live…any last words?"

Severus suddenly opened his eyes and took a gasping breath.

"YES!" He yelled.

Inside, the terror swelled tenfold.

"Why did you look at me like that?" he asked. "That day you came to dinner – why'd you look at me?"

Harry stopped just before the bed he hid behind. Severus was leaning against the wall and so far couldn't see the man he was wildly afraid of. He barely breathed because he had spilled his thoughts. He was going to die, though. He wanted to know before he died.

He could hear the mocking smile in Harry's voice. "Snape, really? Come out from there and I will tell you."

A shiver ran up Severus's spine. He yelled, "No!"

It was a deadlock. There was total silence.

"Alright," Harry finally consented. "But you know…it was Harry who looked at you; not me."

Severus could agree with that. He licked his dry lips and his body suddenly quelled. The fear, though, that never left the pit of his stomach.

"He saw someone who looks like you die. He feels guilty for that."

Harry…was sorry. That was what he wanted to tell Severus; he wanted to talk to a ghost and say he was sorry.

"That's all?" Severus asked, bewildered.

"Yes! Now, do you want me to come back there, or do you want to die like a man?!"

Severus stood.

Harry's face was covered in blood. He was looking menacingly at him with a wand in one hand and with the other hanging limply by his side. It was under a thick leather jacket, but still it was obvious there was something wrong with it.

Harry was standing just across the bed – so close Severus could see his eyes were nearly completely red – even the whites – because they were stained with blood. He was sweaty, pale, and shadowy.

Severus had his new wand and could attack now…but this was Harry he was looking at. No matter how stupid it was not to attack now it was still like something held him back. Even when Harry suddenly grinned and Severus sensed the curse on those lips…he just couldn't stop the man with James's face and those once-green eyes that looked at him so miserably.

"These are the good days, Severus Snape!" Harry stated, and then he flicked his wand with a spell on his lips which –

Which never made it.

Severus flinched in surprise, because suddenly a ghost appeared right behind Harry. Harry stopped what he was doing and turned quickly around to see it, too. It was a man about forty, with a thick dark beard and shabby robes; it was a ghost Severus hadn't ever seen before. This ghost reached its hands into Harry's chest, and Harry dropped his wand, threw his head back, and screamed in agony.

…

Harry felt a sort of heat throughout his body – mostly in his arm and face. He opened his eyes and looked up directly at a familiar person. Young Severus Snape was kneeling over him. Harry saw his hands were covered in red blood. Snape was talking and looking very worried, but Harry couldn't understand anything because of the buzzing in his ears.

Suddenly he heard a new sort of sound, and he saw new people leaning over him, but he didn't have the strength to look at them. Snape moved his gaze away and towards those new people, and he started to pull back, but that was the last thing Harry wanted.

"Look – at – me…" Harry said as best he could, but it was hardly a rasp.

He was numb all over – couldn't even feel Snape's hand when it touched him – but there was one thing he had to do while he was here: he had something to say.

Severus locked eyes with him and didn't look away. Harry was reminded of that look his old professor gave him as he lay dying. Now, their positions had flopped, though, and it was Harry who lost the strength to say what he wanted to say. If he knew how, he would have sent Snape a memory of his own, but the blackness of those eyes was becoming his whole world, and soon he lost all consciousness.

…

He'd already told his plan to Merlin, but he left that spirit away at Hogwarts up in his office. Now was not a moment to be introducing him as a horcrux; it was better that everyone believe he was still just a ghost Harry had stolen from Gringotts.

What mattered most was that everyone else agreed to do their part in the plan to fix the mistake that made this happen. It was Dumbledore's responsibility – one he never should have taken on in the first place, because if Harry's death led to the end of Voldemort then he should have just let that happen. But still, _what a pointless death_ he had thought at the time.

"So now we have a plan!" Dumbledore said to the room full of Order members. "Now, we only have to wait –"

And just then there was thump by the door of their meeting place. All eyes turned to the hallway and Minerva McGonagall came rushing into the room. She wore her nightgown and her hair was down, cascading over her shoulders like a wild mess.

"You won't believe what's just happened!" She shouted in a frenzy.

**I see an end in sight. Thank you all my readers.**


	35. Chapter 35

His arm was in a cast laying on his chest and he could see the edge of a bandage around his forehead. He was at St. Mungo's under heavy guard and with a tribunal scheduled to happen in a few hours. Hogwarts was kept closed for another week and all the staff and students left there were sent home. Today – two days after Voldemort's death – a national party was being celebrated that was planned to last a week. The war…was over.

Harry so far had no visitors, but he had plenty of official Ministry people come in. Half of them told him his crime against the population and said he'd spend the rest of his life in Azkaban, and the other half swore his innocence because of a possession. He was saved having to take Veritaserum in interrogation only as an honor for having been so victimized by Voldemort: having his parents murdered, having been imprisoned for three years, having needed to hunt down the horcruxes, and having killed Lord Voldemort; not even eighteen appeals to this honor could get a judge to overrule it.

Harry was the nation's idol; the hero they prayed for, said the judge.

"No one is going to use Veritaserum on him – upon penalty of imprisonment!" the judge declared.

But still, it was like nothing had changed from before the time Merlin first tried to take that horcrux out of him. He had lived with it inside of him his whole life, but it had been buried so deep he didn't even know it was there. He was angry that he had carried something so evil around with him, but he wasn't so angry about what it had done while it was in control. Mostly what had happened could be fixed; there were just a few things that left emotional scars for innocent people, but maybe – Harry reasoned – those scars were less than they might have been if he hadn't traveled through time in the clock.

Harry had been aware only to the point of viewing the carnage. He didn't feel anything – he didn't taste or smell anything. He saw it as if from a great distance. He felt detached as it happened, but he didn't feel so detached once Snape was in the picture. Even the Wizarding World recognized Snape's service to them. Snape had sacrificed himself to save McGonagall and those children, and he had pulled one over against the horcrux, and he had bore witness to the spirit of Merlin infusing itself into Harry and destroying the evil inside of him. Merlin didn't survive the rescue, but that was only testament that not all horcruxes were evil…at least according to Dumbledore's interview.

For whatever reason, Harry felt indebted to that horcrux. Some piece of its red jewel had been left behind in the Hospital Ward, allowing it to transfer down there and do its work. Harry knew Merlin wasn't really destroyed…another red jewel was in Gringotts, hidden away and the proper one for this day and age. The Merlin he had brought back with him had been vanquished, but if he so chose to go looking, he might find it again. That was a strong _if._

Though Dumbledore had been in here a few times also, still, Harry didn't consider himself as having any true visitors.

_"I'm sure you're very confused,"_ Dumbledore said during that first visit. _"But I can tell you anything you want to –"_

_"Is Snape alright?"_ Harry asked – as it was his only pressing concern.

_"Yes…he is. He's going to be issued an honorary metal for services to wizard-kind. He'll be given it at your own award ceremony."_

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled with pride as he said this, but Harry had yet to believe he might get that award. If the tribunal in a few hours declared him guilty, then he would be going to Azkaban forever. Actually…if they found him guilty and he was sent there, he'd be going to the afterlife.

Harry tossed his pillow across the room for some violent relief.

Even now, as he stared at the wall across his bed from his position in St. Mungo's hospital, Harry was feeling the tension of the wait. There was a strange sound he was hearing…like static and thunder between his ears. He didn't feel quite awake yet; he felt like he was still trapped in the horcrux's grip. He was just waiting for something to wake him up again.

…

A quiet voice said his name by the door, and then someone knocked three times.

Harry opened his eyes and looked. There stood three people – James was one of them. The other two were an elderly couple he had seen in pictures from the photo album Hagrid had given him as a birthday gift. He hadn't seen those photos in four years, but he remembered those faces.

Harry sat up in bed. Still, he had a bandage around his forehead and his arm was held tightly to his chest, also wrapped up. White still surrounded him, but he had color at last in his cheeks.

"You're Harry Potter?" asked the elderly man hesitantly, yet politely

Harry nodded to his grandfather. He, his grandmother, and his father walked into the room.

"Why are you here?" Harry asked quietly, almost not believing these people were.

"We've been trying to see you," Mr. Potter said. "We were only given permission now that the tribunal is over."

Harry nodded. Yes, he was acquitted of the charges. It was small a victory on his road to recovery.

The couple came up to his bed side and stood over him. Harry looked up into their faces and he saw pieces of himself there. He always wondered how this meeting would happen…and how it would turn out. He thought he'd feel more once seeing them, but he was still quite numb.

Suddenly the look on Mrs. Potter's face changed from wonder to sadness, and tears welled in her eyes and spilled over. Harry furrowed his brow in confusion. She seemed helpless suddenly.

"We're so sorry, Harry!" she said wildly, reaching out to him and holding his face tenderly in her hands. Harry was speechless. "What were we supposed to guess? We never knew anything about you…or…."

"We think someone must have wiped our memories," Mr. Potter said, wrapping an arm around Mrs. Potter and reaching out to grasp Harry's good shoulder.

Harry shook his head, unable still to speak. He looked away from them all in shame for making them believe James had a brother. He felt his bed sink. Mrs. Potter looked steadily at him, and that imploring look reminded him very much of Hermione.

"You know we would have taken you in if we'd known about you. We just…didn't know!"

Harry thought for a second that telling the truth would lesson these two people's burden, but to say that now would be like telling the future Severus Snape he had a crush on him in 1977 – well, 1978 now. He just couldn't do it.

"It's okay …" Harry whispered, angry tears coming to his eyes, but he refused to let them out. Behind his parents, James was standing stiffly and looking at him. Harry kept his eyes on James's stern face as he said, "Maybe it has to be this way."

Harry looked at their lightly wrinkled faces again, and it was so wonderful and so horrible all at once to be here, that it was enough to wake up his heart again. His stomach became warm and his skin began to tingle where they touched. Those tears he held in fell from his green eyes.

"Fighting to stop You Know Who is the only life I've ever known for so long," he told them, and he felt so bold and so strong right now that he couldn't stand it; he was going to either sob or…laugh. So he laughed as best he could in his confused state.

Harry continued, "And now it's suddenly all over! And here you are!"

While his grandparents dove in for a tight hug for Harry, James finally had enough, and he asked irritably, "How long have you known about us? Why didn't you ever try and meet us before?"

It was a question Harry already had an answer to – the answer was, of course, a lie.

"I just found out about you these past few weeks…"

James got angrier still, and he demanded, "Why? Why didn't you know about us?"

"James, please!" Mrs. Potter said, but James shook his head and wouldn't stop.

He said, "You know about everything to do with You Know Who, but you don't know anything about us at all? I'm your brother and you don't know anything about me? Where did you come from?!"

Harry was frozen in panic for that brief moment. He felt caught – like James knew his bluff and wouldn't ever let it go. Harry was lying to him – to his own father. He felt so horrible for it.

The moment of silence ended when Mr. Potter said, "Harry's not your brother, James; he's your nephew."

_You're brother…is dead. My father is dead. You're dead. _Harry's thoughts were going wild.

James looked outraged for a moment, but then his fury quelled into panic.

"I – I know that! I – I –"

Harry was up in a second. He moved around Mrs. Potter and Mr. Potter moved aside, and Harry went with an open arm and gathered James tightly to him, doing his best to wrap even his bandaged arm around him. He knew the feeling James was going through – it was someone who was just on the verge of acceptance, but actually fully accepting would mean taking on the whole of the truth. And that…was very difficult.

James gripped his hospital gown tightly and pressed his face heavily under Harry's chin.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry…" Harry whispered to him, eyes closed tightly. James's hair was soft against his cheek.

"Maybe he had a memory charm on himself as well," Mrs. Potter said, trying to appease the situation.

"Maybe our…other son did, too…" said Mr. Potter.

Harry's eyes were squinted in pain and he said through tight lips, "Maybe."

James only sniffed loudly and held on. Harry felt like if he'd let go, he just might lose this version of his father forever.

…

"Were you always afraid of him?" the interviewing witch asked Harry. She had ten minutes to get Harry's statement for the morning paper, and she was doing a good job of keeping things dramatic.

"All the time," Harry confessed. "But not as much as some other things…"

The interview encompassed Harry and his family, so Mr. and Mrs. Potter were in chairs right next to them. Rita Skeeter nodded furiously, urging him on. Harry knew she wanted him to just start blabbing – some things never change, even with time – but he wasn't too thrilled with this interview in the first place, so he kept his tempo down.

"Other things?" Mrs. Potter asked wisely.

"Yes – other things?" Rita urged.

Harry looked now at James who was sitting by his side. He knew James wasn't completely over his anger at being left without him all his life; Harry could relate to that feeling.

Harry nodded. "I understood Voldemort. I knew about what drove him since I was a little kid – since even he was a little kid. New things, though – things that I've never known before – those things are scary."

"Ah! I see!" Rita said blissfully, looking over at her Quick Quotes Quill to be sure the paper was getting it all down. She changed the subject then. "And now, tell me about Severus Snape! You're opinion of him; ten words or less!"

Harry huffed, almost amused by this woman with the rainbow assortment of colors and smells. But that subject…Severus…

Severus Snape scared him. Severus was awfully new.

"Snape?" Harry wondered now, his eyes becoming too heavy to look at anyone with.

Snape died in his arms…and helped save his soul.

To Rita, he said, "He sacrificed his whole life to save innocent people. He's probably the bravest person I know."

Of course, Harry was thinking this about Ron and Hermione also. The difference was that they weren't alive…might never be alive, really.

Rita suddenly turned to James and asked, "Some would say you have a different opinion of him. Is that true?"

…

In the language of dragons, the word for fear and the word for love are the same. In many ways the two have the same result anyway. Harry was contemplating that word now as he stood on the stage at his acceptance ceremony for the Order of Merlin. Standing here next to Severus, he was afraid, jittery, his heart pounded like a drum, but this feeling wasn't fear at all. Fear he was very familiar with…this, too, he was familiar with. Feelings were more complex for humans, so they needed different words.

An official was talking to the room of about a hundred people, but Harry wasn't listening. No one would hear him anyway – he knew – and he just had to ask, so he did.

To Severus, he said quietly, "Why did you do it?"

Severus's eyes flicked over to him, and Harry about caught his breath, because once those black eyes landed on his – something he was sure Severus tried not to do in all the time they stood together – he was reminded of how great life was, because once again he was blown away by the fact that this person was alive again. Life was not death; it was dark, yes, and scary, hooded and even snarky, but it was breathing, too.

In those eyes, he was reminded of everything he believed in.

Severus told him then, "There wasn't any other way…it was the only solution."

"I heard your voice in the end," Harry said, wishing they were alone. "I wanted to tell you –"

"That you were sorry," Snape said, and his hushed voice came quickly. "I know."

"No," Harry said, concerned.

Suddenly the room burst into applause, because the speaker was finished and the awards were now presented. Harry took his gingerly and looked down at it, but there was too much commotion to read it now. He looked out on the sea of faces and colors, and he smiled and held the award up in one hand.

Next to him, Severus was quite a bit shyer, and kept his towards his chest.

Harry looked at him and leaned in, grinning, feeling hot and alive and fearless…

He said, "I wanted to tell you thank you…for saving those people."

Severus was obviously surprised by this. Harry thought he would be, but he didn't expect Severus to appear quite so flustered. He reached out his arm and gathered him into a one-armed embrace. The audience clapped, and Harry – with his face blocked from the crowd – kissed Severus lightly on his cheek.

…

Severus looked uncomfortably up at Harry once he pulled away.

Harry's smile faltered a little, but that was it. Severus felt Harry's fingers tight on his shoulder, and his breath was taken away because he saw it in Harry's face: he saw passion.

He was so afraid Harry would lean in to kiss him again – in front of all these people – that he drew away.

It was like there was a spell over the two of them that he didn't even know about, but now it was obviously broken.

Harry looked disappointed but didn't speak, and Severus really didn't know why he did that. He felt so stupid suddenly. Harry had kissed him – he wanted that! So why did he pull away?

_I'm sorry!_ Severus thought, because he wanted Harry to reach out again – try again – because he needed a second chance!

But Harry didn't do it. Instead, he looked out at the crowd, and the night went on, and Severus didn't ever get that chance.


	36. Chapter 36

Spring rolled around and brought with it icy puddles and wild flowers. The air was quite warm, too, but up high in the clouds like he was, Nhesher's hot breath was still welcome as it seeped back towards him. The dragon's wings would beat steadily several times, and then they would even out and glide. Harry didn't have to bury his face in the dragon's mane, either; the day was too nice for that. He sat up tall and leaned into the wind, looking straight ahead at the landscape all around.

They flew over cities and towns and forests alike, never having to wonder if someone saw them. He liked it best up here, but still he kept his eyes out for danger. With a dragon under his seat he wasn't too afraid, though.

It was graduation day for the Hogwart's seventh years, and Harry was invited to be there to see James, Sirius, Remus, and Lily off. He'd be seeing Severus, too, and he was looking forward to that. It'd been…too long. He was a little nervous about how he'd feel when he saw him, but he hoped Severus wouldn't hold that kiss against him like he'd done before. It was easy to almost forget it, but he could never quite pull off completely forgetting it. He and Severus Snape had history, after all.

Alastor Moody was a rigorous instructor, but even though today was technically one of the busiest days in the Auror office – preparing for all the new recruits – Harry got the day off to make it to Hogwarts. He could have Flooed, but Nhesher needed a nice long stretch…and he didn't think Hagrid would mind seeing the dragon again. They were almost there – just another few hills.

It did take some getting used to thinking of James as his uncle and not his father, but just being able to look James in the face and call him family was worth it. They were getting along; they'd owl letters back and forth – taking about this and that. Harry liked it when James talked about Lily in those letters. He had found a white barn owl with gray spots to be his. He called it Ronald Granger, though he never explained to anyone why.

Harry and Nhesher aimed for the field just in front of the Great Lake. He told James he'd be there about this time, and to wait for him next to the water. James had kept his word, and he and the other Marauders were there with their hands shielding their eyes from the sun, looking up at the white dragon. Nhesher cast a large shadow over them as it beat its wings for a soft landing.

Harry smiled when he saw them, and waved.

The boys were laughing and jumping with excitement. Harry waited for his dragon to get comfortable with the surroundings enough to finally lower its neck to the ground for him. Their relationship had survived his attack last winter, but it was still trying to get past the language barrier. The unfortunate thing about losing the horcrux within him was that he also lost the ability to understand dragons. It was cumbersome – Nhesher was very confused by it – but they'd worked out a sort of patience between each other.

Besides, not all words, of course, were lost. Harry found many had been committed to memory.

_"Thank you,"_ Harry said to Nhesher, sparks and smoke warming his mouth as the growl escaped him.

For a few words, Harry heard only growling, but then he made out the tendrils of something, _"…these humans…delicious taste…"_

Harry grumbled affectionately and patted Nhesher's neck roughly. He looked behind him at the excited boys, and saw they were walking forward slowly. Harry held up his hand to stop them.

"You better not! It's hungry!" he called to them.

They backed up a few steps. It was one thing to have a dragon as a friend, but it was another to think that dragon would have everyone as its friend. Nhesher, though tame enough, still gorged on meat and bones.

"HARRY!" boomed a great loud voice over from the school.

Harry looked and saw Hagrid making his way quickly over, jogging most of the way, a smile very evident even under his thick beard.

"I thought you'd like a visit!" Harry yelled to him, and then asked Nhesher, _"Remember this friend?"_

The dragon was affirmative in its reply, so Harry indicated Hagrid come close.

Hagrid didn't hesitate to come right into the white dragon's space and roughly scratch its thick mane of blond hair. He kept one hand out and ready to stop the mouth with the long teeth if it decided to take a nibble, though.

With Nhesher occupied, Harry turned and started towards James, Remus, and Sirius. He was dressed in light gray leather from toe to hood, but now pulled back that hood to feel the sun on his face. He bypassed the greetings and went straight to wrapping each of them up in his arms and nuzzling close. He gave James a heavy kiss on his forehead, which was right at mouth level.

"How's Lily?"

"You always ask that first," James pointed out.

Harry shrugged and said, "I like to know these things."

"She's happy to have the best grades in the school," James said.

Harry was quite proud of her for that. It was easy to see Hermione's spirit in her.

"And you?" He asked. "Still not going to become an Auror?"

James laughed and rolled his eyes, but although Harry understood that having a vast fortune meant you didn't have to work, he knew it didn't mean that you shouldn't at least have a dream. But then again…who was he to complain? He'd be in his parent's wedding photos.

"I hope there's something I can do," Remus said a bit sadly, still quite worried that he was so ostracized for being a werewolf.

Harry said sternly to him, "You'll always have a job at the Auror office. And maybe we should get Lily to fight for equal rights."

James and Sirius laughed obnoxiously at that, which irked Harry. He grabbed Remus's arm lightly and tugged him away from them, saying, "Just for that, you two won't get to ride on Nhesher!"

"WHAT!" They – all – yelled in unison, and Remus tried to struggle out of Harry's grasp.

Harry grinned at Remus and held tighter, just about dragging him towards the dragon.

"You said it was hungry!" He yelled.

"I want to ride on it!" James declared, grabbing Harry's shoulder and following him very closely towards the dragon; Sirius was right on James's heels.

"Me too! You're not leaving me behind!"

Harry looked at Hagrid and Nhesher still getting acquainted after so many months, and thought Hagrid looked just a little unhappy suddenly. Since now would be a good time to let the boys meet his dragon properly, it might as well be for Hagrid, as well.

He smiled widely and asked, "Want a ride, too, Hagrid?"

Yes…yes he did.

The four of them went up first, and then it was just Hagrid and him. Nhesher had over a hundred-fifty feet wingspan, so a half-giant was no problem.

…

The news spread like a brush fire: Harry Potter was at Hogwarts.

Severus was in the Slytherin common room when the fire got to him, and it burned in his chest. He had been playing a game of chess with a third year worthy of his skills, but the game was decidedly over when both the players rushed out with the rest of the room to go check it out. Them – and just about the rest of the school – piled out or against windows and watched Harry give rides on his dragon to those three Gryffindor boys.

When they landed after a few minutes, the guys rushed to the school and blissfully told everyone about it. Severus didn't take his eyes off the small black dot in the sky that was Harry's head, though.

It was real: Harry was here.

Harry…who had kissed _him._

The memory of that coupled with the months of hitting his head against walls for not indicating to Harry that he liked the kiss, forced Severus to hide like a scared little mouse. He went to the library until the Gryffindors gave him the tour. He went to his common room until Slughorn gave him the tour. He went to the gardens, to the courtyards, to the Great Hall, and back to the library, but always – as if following him – Harry and his entourage found him.

He was in hell and just wanted the ceremony to be over and done with so he could finally put this behind him. Harry Potter wasn't following him. Why would he?

Severus was just walking the halls now. He didn't trust stopping anywhere so made a point of not walking anywhere twice. It was nice, really. He never usually got to see so much of the castle. He thought he might even miss the place since things had changed for him after the winter break. Apparently, saving the Wizarding World was what it took to get James Potter and the rest of the people who harassed him to stop. It also got his old friend Lily to start talking to him again; as it was clear he didn't have a future in the Dark Arts now.

He was just wondered without intent, so turning a corner and winding up just feet from Harry Potter and Headmaster Dumbledore was quite unintentional. The two of them looked away from their quiet conversation together and at him. Severus saw a peculiar long wooden staff in Dumbledore's hands. Most peculiar about it was the red jewel at the tip.

Harry smiled at him and said to Dumbledore, "Just use it well, alright? I want to talk to him."

Dumbledore cleared his throat and seemed quite lost for words. Severus thought that was odd, but Dumbledore wasn't upset or anything – he actually looked very joyful about something.

"I'll see you at the ceremony Harry. Mr. Snape," Dumbledore nodded to him in parting.

Severus nodded to him also…and then it was just them. After all his hard work to avoid this moment, here it was.

Harry walked up to Severus and stood before him.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," Harry said quietly, and his eyes never left Severus's face. It made him feel special, even if he didn't like that feeling at all.

"What was that staff?" Severus asked curiously.

"That? It's a gift. Sort of…my way of apologizing for breaking something of his."

The silence that settled wasn't exactly something Severus was comfortable with. He shifted on his feet, and then all at once made to go.

"People are probably gathering for the ceremony –"

"Wait a second!" Harry urged, stopping him with a hand on his hand. Severus pulled his back, and Harry sighed. "I want to ask you something."

That was almost funny. They always seemed to have something to ask the other.

"Go ahead, then…"

Harry took his time to say it, but finally he asked, "Why did you run into the Hospital Ward?"

"Why not run in there?"

"Because," Harry said, "any other place and you'd have been killed. You ran to the one place you wouldn't have been. Don't you think that means something?"

Severus knew about the horcruxes – everyone knew about them. Like Severus, not of all them believed it was the spirit of Merlin that destroyed the horcrux in Harry, but he was glad whatever it was had done it. Because of that spirit, Harry was here. Because of it…Severus got that kiss on the stage.

But did it mean something that that was where he ran to? Of course it didn't…it was luck. He just ran there.

"No," he said.

Harry took a step forward and reached out for him then, slowly. Severus looked at that hand come close – the fingers which were long and nicely kept. Harry touched his cheek softly, his thumb rubbing. Severus swallowed hard and couldn't quite catch his breath. He looked right into Harry's eyes and saw that passion again, but he didn't know where it was coming from.

"I do…Severus. I do…"

He leaned forward, and the hero of the Wizarding World was just an inch from his lips when Severus finally came to his senses again. He'd had months to think this over, and he honestly didn't see any logic to it at all. He turned his face away and pushed Harry away; he was mostly trying to push his fear and his anxiety away, though.

"What?" Harry asked bewilderedly, eyes very bright and intent on him.

"Why?! Why me?!" Severus demanded, stepping back.

That almost trumped Harry. The man was confused and gestured as much.

"Because!" Harry shouted, and that was so like an arrogant Potter that it didn't fool Severus for a second.

"_Because_ isn't an answer! _Because_ is just something people say when there isn't an answer at all!"

_Because is what I tell myself when my father really hurts me._

Severus wasn't going to take his head being played with as well as his heart. He turned around and made to leave, but Harry stopped him and flung him around. Harry was something else entirely to look at when he was this passionate. It was those eyes of his…they about glowed.

"I _get_ you, Snape!" Harry said, and then he corrected, "Severus…Severus. I understand you. I _trust_ you!"

"Because I saved your life?"

"Yes!" Harry nodded, then shook his head. "No – because you saved everyone's life…because you're strong! Do you know…" Harry took a moment to find the right words. He continued, "Do you know how many times I've seen someone sacrifice them self for someone else? I've seen a lot of it. But not since…"

Severus swallowed hard. His heart was beating like a drum and his body was almost numb. Harry was still holding onto him. Being this close made the smell of soot very strong, and it muddled his mind.

"Not since what?" he asked, just about appeased.

Harry shook his head. "Not since I was seventeen have I ever known someone who would save people like you did."

Severus shook his head. He thought Harry might cry, so he reached out and held onto his arms over his gray leather jacket. Harry sniffed.

"I'm not very good at Occlumency, but Voldemort was," Harry said, and Severus shivered when he heard that name. Harry then pulled him in.

It was a hug; it had to be. Severus hadn't been hugged since his mother last did it, but he was sure: this was a hug.

"Sorry, Severus. Don't be afraid of that name, okay?"

"Okay…"

"But he's good at reading minds…and he read yours…and I…could hear your thoughts."

Severus swallowed hard, a bit embarrassed.

"You wanted everyone to live…and you were sad, because you thought I was dead. But that didn't stop you from thinking about them. That's…a lot like me."

Severus closed his eyes and breathed in deeply the scent of smoke and soot. He never thought he'd like that smell, but as it turns out he did.

"You were afraid and powerless…but you found a way out. You had that wand on your mind and even though he knew…you still took it. You saved everyone because – like you said – you had to."

Harry pulled away from him enough to see his face, and his hand was warm as it wiped the hair that had fallen into his eyes away, and he kissed him deeply, so that it tingled Severus's whole body. He couldn't help it, either; he kissed back as best he could. It was a little sloppy and not exactly perfect, but it was real. Harry's body pressed against him was real, too. It didn't get far, and at last the kiss found its end. Severus bowed his head and closed his eyes. In his head, he was thinking a lot; never really a good thing.

"What's wrong?" Harry whispered.

Severus shook his head and pulled back. He couldn't meet Harry's eyes when he said, "I know you're going to regret this. You're going to wish you could take it back…"

Of course he would. This was Harry Potter, and he was only Severus Snape. There was no way it would work. Even if Harry thought he knew him – or thought they were alike – it didn't change the fact that they were two completely different people.

Severus turned around and left. He was glad that Harry didn't try to stop him, because then he would have seen the tears in his eyes.

So much for that second chance.


	37. Chapter 37

**Hey, don't forget chapter 36, it has like 30 views, but this one has close to 200...**

He stood on the podium at the end of a long line of teachers, ready to shake all the graduate's hands. He got a lot of looks from the crowd – from parents and students, and witches and wizards on the School Board. They were excited to see him there and dressed in his black Auror robes. Harry was happy to see them, really, but there was a frown in the corner of his lips and in his eyes.

For three years he was locked away in a cell without a chance for escape or a reprieve, but he'd survived it because there were things to hope for still. Then Voldemort came one day to trade him for the lives of his two best friends. He escaped into a time machine clock and came to the past. He met a dragon, destroyed Voldemort's horcruxes, became possessed, got his revenge, and then finally he was saved – saved by Severus Snape. Then he fell for him a little. Then a lot. And then he got his heart broken.

He didn't think after coming back here that he'd see a little bit of light in Severus again, but it had been there. It was there enough that he just couldn't let it go. Severus was something special; he was a fighter – smart, strong, and broken in his own way.

So yes…maybe this wouldn't work anyway. Maybe it was a losing struggle; Harry was wrong about so many things in his life that this could be yet another one of those things.

He was shaking everyone's hands and giving them little nods of encouragement. They whispered little things to him, too. _Thanks for saving us. Awesome dragon. Let's go on a date sometime._

None of it really got past his broken heart.

Sirius past first of the people he knew, and he got a really loud applause from the crowd. He kissed McGonagall on the cheek and turned the audience of students into a riot, which passed easily.

"See that?" Sirius asked Harry delightfully as he walked on.

Next up was Lily, and Harry's hand jittered so badly when she got to him that he went straight for a hug.

"Good luck, Miss Evans!" Harry whispered.

"Remus told me what you said," she whispered back, and she left it at that and took the stairs.

Remus was up next and Harry managed a real smile for him. They didn't say anything, but there was something to that anyway.

He didn't want to shake Peter Pettigrew's hand, but he did it anyway. Peter was just…a bad memory for him. So much so that he never wanted to see him after today. Peter smiled up at him and didn't seem the wiser to Harry's turmoil. And that was it – that's what set Harry off. He couldn't just let him go out into the world; he couldn't just let him go without some sort of…warning.

Peter went to pull his hand away and continue on like the other dozens of students – and Harry was eager to let him go because James was next – but he clenched his hand then; he pulled Peter suddenly back.

Harry more like seethed this to him than whispered it, "Who is more dangerous? You or me?"

"What?"

He looked right into that surprised face and was glad to see the fear. He didn't even try to hide his emotions; he just glared right into that familiar face.

"I know you're type, Pettigrew! You like your friends to be big because you're afraid to be on your own!"

Right next to Harry was Professor McKinnon, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, who held the unconscious poltergeist when Hogwarts was invaded – Peeves was of course better now and banned from this area of Hogwarts at the moment. Right now, McKinnon could hear what Harry was saying, and he cleared his throat roughly in warning.

Harry ignored it, of course.

"That sort of person…who needs someone stronger than them…they're the sort who the Dark Lord lured to his side so easily!"

"Mr. Potter!" McKinnon half whispered, now more urgently because the exchange was getting the attention of the audience. Peter was trying to pull his hand out of Harry's, who wouldn't allow that.

"Anyone should second guess themselves before putting their life in your hands!"

"Peter's a Gryffindor!" McKinnon said, tightly gripping Harry's wrist that had Peter.

Harry said without remorse to McKinnon, "That's the problem! You think that makes a difference when you're backed into a corner? But it's then we are part of only two houses: one for beggars and one for the dead. I know I would die before I betrayed my friends, but I don't think Pettigrew would do that!"

McKinnon brutally dug his fingers into Harry's wrist and caused his grip to weaken, releasing Peter. Peter rushed away fast, clutching his bruised hand to his chest and on the verge of tears. Harry watched him the whole time that he completely missed James accepting his award. He finally noticed James when he was rushing through, shaking the hands of his professors. He shook McKinnon's, but Harry didn't even bother to extend his; he knew from the evil look he was getting that it was useless, and he was right – James just pushed him hard and stomped down the stairs to his group where Peter was.

Harry felt bad, then. He felt a heavy weight on his shoulders when he saw also that Lily was looking quite upset with him. His stomach was turning; he wished he'd just let Peter go.

Things got back on track after a few more students. Harry was pacified even with his slightly guilty conscious. He noted that Peter hadn't yet told the Marauders what he had said, so there must have been something there that Peter was afraid of. So he felt justified.

It was Severus's turn next.

He looked on Severus's stern face as the seventeen year old was given a special announcement, reminding everyone what he'd done for the school during the holiday. People clapped.

Inwardly, for Harry, an even greater weight settled, because he wasn't looking at him, and that made his heart ache. Peter had made him angry, but this…it made him furious. Even when he passed the final teacher and heard his final compliment, and offered his hand to Harry – he didn't look.

But this close, Harry saw he was blushing.

That fury didn't evaporate…it just changed into something reckless.

Harry reached out and took his hand. When they touched, Harry swore he could hear his own heart thumping in his chest.

Severus tried to keep it brief and was already walking away before the shake even finished; he quickly pulled away – or tried to. Harry pulled him in quick and strong.

"Potter!" McKinnon shouted, because he'd been keeping his eye on Harry now.

McKinnon couldn't stop what happened next, though. Severus came lurching back towards Harry, and Harry reached out his other hand and took hold of Severus's neck, guiding them together to meet in the middle where a hard kiss waited.

Though Harry's eyes were closed, he was pretty sure Severus's wasn't.

The whole room gasped, pointed, and shouted loudly in surprise. McKinnon stopped just a second from ripping them apart and stood frozen, staring. Those closest on the stage weren't looking away, either.

This time, it was Dumbledore who called crossly, _"Mr. Potter!"_

Harry broke the kiss and thought he saw stars. He grinned, looking into Severus's eyes, because yeah…he was looking now; he wasn't looking away.

"No, Severus. I'd never take this back. Not for a second," Harry said honestly, and kissed him again. This time, Severus was smiling against Harry's lips even if his whole body was shaking.

The crowd applauded and hooted and whistled. Harry finally let Severus go, and the poor young man turned on his way and about stumbled down the steps. People were laughing, but Harry was pretty sure plenty of them were envious, too. He watched Severus until he found his seat again, and then Severus watched him, also.

The ceremony was exciting but short. Harry, to much disappointment, didn't make another scene.

…

"Can't believe you did that," Sirius moaned for the millionth time.

"I can't believe you did any of that!" Lily said, although she was a bit angrier than Sirius.

Harry wasn't really thinking about much else except for Severus, so he didn't really care what any of them thought this moment.

And so it beings, Harry realized as they all stood there outside seeing their families off from the graduation; Mr. and Mrs. Potter had already headed home. They weren't exactly pleased with the ceremony, but that was only because James was so unhappy. Harry knew then that though he'd been without family his whole life, now that he had them, he was taking them for granted. That feeling alone was enough to break open his heart for more, and he turned quickly to Lily and felt ashamed.

"Sorry, Lily," he said, mostly sorry that he'd let her down. "Something came over me…that's all."

Harry's attitude seemed to appease her – the rest of them, too.

Lily said softly, "You really hurt his feelings…"

Harry looked away and shrugged. "I can't help that. Sometimes…I just don't like certain people."

"You never liked him," James noticed, and Harry agreed, because it sounded like James was getting over his unhappiness from before, as well. "Why not?"

Harry looked down at the floor between them all.

He said, "I love you, James. I love Sirius and I love Remus and I love Lily, because they're all good to you. But I don't love Pettigrew." He looked up now, and said very firmly, "I don't want to be his friend. I don't want to be around him. He…reminds me of someone I used to know…"

James looked sharply into his eyes, biting his bottom lip.

"I'm sorry," Harry said quite miserably.

Lily suddenly reached out for him and hugged him.

"I forget sometimes what you've been though," she whispered to him from under his chin.

"Love you, Lily," he whispered back.

"Love you too, Harry."

Harry squeezed her tightly to him, closing his eyes.

It was time to leave, now. It was getting late and the sun was starting to go down. He let Lily go and gave the other three a quick goodbye. Nhesher was waiting alone by the Great Lake, just resting there without supervision, and they had a long journey ahead of them back to the dragon reserve it'd come to enjoy. Harry couldn't leave, though, without another goodbye.

Severus was standing by the doorway, leaning against it and waiting for him. Harry left everyone behind and walked up to him. Severus chewed on his lips and did whatever else he could to keep from smiling. Harry reached out for him and pulled him in gently, kissing him lightly.

He pulled back a moment later and let Severus go completely.

"See you," he said kindly.

"Yeah," Severus agreed, looking steadily at him.

Harry felt…alright, now; ready to go.

He left Severus and headed for his dragon, who met him with a pleasant grumble. Harry ran his gloved hand over the dragon's scaly snout, then over its soft mane, and finally he moved behind its head and swung his leg over its neck. He held on tightly with his hands and legs as the great white dragon lifted its long neck into the air.

He looked back at everyone just a short distance away. They were smiling and waving at him. He saw plenty of others looking out windows and other such doorways, too.

He sought out James, Lily, Sirius, and Remus, and he gave them a gloved thumbs-up high in the air so they could see from so far away. Then he looked to the side and found Severus, and Harry gave him a kiss on the tips of his gloved fingers and offered it. Severus fidgeted, probably still blushing.

Harry smiled, pulled his hood on, and patted Nhesher on its neck. The dragon coiled itself, bowed and tense, and then lunged. A few beats of its wings and they were up. Strong as ever, off they went.

**The End**


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